


Jacks are from Mars, Madams are from Venus

by HeatherAster



Category: Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears (2020), Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: (but not in gratuitous detail), Case Fic, Established Phrack, F/M, FIC IS COMPLETE, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jack lives at Wardlow now, Physical Abuse/Rape mentioned in PAST TENSE, Post-Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears, Smut mixed in, doppleganger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 128,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28777680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherAster/pseuds/HeatherAster
Summary: Subtitle:  Two brothels, two murders, two power couples - a tale in two parts.It was bound to happen eventually:  Detective Inspector Jack Robinson and Crime King Henry Stokes coming face-to-face during the course of a murder investigation or two.  Not only that, but the women in their lives, The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher and the mysterious Madam Venus DeRosier (respectively) would cross paths with their lovers’ look-alikes as well as each other.  How will this mixed doubles match play out, and will Jack and Phryne catch the murderer?  But first, we must solve the mystery of Madam Venus DeRosier.  How did she find her way to Melbourne, what secrets is she hiding, and how did she end up on the arm of Henry Stokes?
Relationships: Henry Stokes/Original Character, Hugh Collins/Dorothy "Dot" Williams, Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 73
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~ For those of you who are familiar with the character of Henry Stokes as played by Nathan Page in the Australian true-crime historical drama, “Underbelly: Squizzy”, you will find him here, with extrapolations as cooked up in my fevered brain. If you are NOT familiar, I highly recommend you hop on over to YouTube and binge it. NP is roguishly delicious as the Crime King of the South; the real Henry Stokes could only wish to have looked that good.  
> ~ “Jacks” was a nickname for police used in Melbourne during the first few decades of the 20th century, and was used often in the “Squizzy” series, hence the play on words in the title.  
> ~ I researched what I could about certain underworld and crime elements in Melbourne and Australia at the time, as well as the police response, and ended up having to take some creative license in those areas. Hopefully your willing suspension of disbelief will allow you to overlook any anachronisms.  
> ~ To all the Melbournians out there, I have attempted to represent your city accurately and well to the best of my abilities. I have fallen in long-distance love with “Melbs” during the course of writing this story and I hope that shows.  
> ~ Rated M overall, but there ARE some E-rated sections, and I will attempt to make note when I post those chapters.  
> ~ Major Thanks to my faithful beta for innumerable hours of discussion over all the interpersonal and emotional nuances of the characters, without which this story wouldn’t be nearly as good.  
> ~ I hope you all enjoy!  
> +++++

PART 1 - Out of the Fire  
+++

Venus DeRosier pushed her sable fur wrap off her shoulders as she entered the fabled casino in the Melbourne suburb of Richmond, catching the eye of many a two-up hopeful, but she took no notice of them. Her mission was as simple as it was daring: Enlist the aid of the proprietor of the establishment who was also the city’s top gangster, Henry Stokes.

The haze of gasper smoke and aroma of stale alcohol only strengthened as she moved between the busy tables. Her nose wrinkled in protest, but she kept her cool composure as she took a seat at the well-appointed bar. 

“Martini, please,” she said to the bartender, then took out a specially-blended cigarette of her own and set it in a long, decorative holder with a silver filigree design wrapped around the end - a gift from a grateful client. The bartender brought her drink and offered her a light. So far, so good, she thought, silently thanking her colleague for the recommendation. The well-made cocktail soothed her rising apprehension and she relaxed, reminding herself it was just a conversation. She looked around again for Stokes, but none of the men appeared to be the well-dressed crime boss she was hoping to meet. 

She spent time people-watching as she waited for him to make an appearance, making up stories in her head about the individuals populating the tables. She had entertained herself this way since she was a girl growing up in the side-streets of working-class Sydney. It was how she learned to read people and eventually take advantage of them for fun and profit. And it was what had made her a savvy survivor in that city’s mean streets, enabling her to rise to the rank of respected owner of one of the city’s best gentlemens' clubs. She knew men like Henry Stokes, and while she wasn’t a fearful person, she would need to tread cautiously. 

Two young couples, a pair of flappers and their college-aged dates, arrived at the bar and interrupted her thoughts. Their laughter and exuberance was heady and self-absorbed, drawing a wistful but cynical smile from Venus. It had been a long time since she’d been that carefree. She reached in her purse for another cigarette and as soon as she’d inserted it in the holder, a flame from a fancy gold lighter appeared in front of her.

“May I?” asked a rumbly baritone voice, and her eyes scanned from the lighter, over a large square hand with long fingers, up an arm in a rich blue suit, to a pair of cool blue eyes in a chiseled face. His expression was open and curious, but there was a world-weary edge to the lines around his eyes. She leaned in and lit her cigarette, then turned her head aside to exhale the first puff while not taking her eyes off him. 

“Thank you,” she said, watching him closely as he smoothly pocketed the lighter. 

“Anytime,” he extended his hand. “Henry Stokes.” 

“Venus DeRosier,” she said, slipping her hand in his for a polite shake. The warmth of his palm against hers caught her breath and she took another puff to cover her sudden discomfort. 

“May I join you?” Stokes asked, indicating the empty bar stool next to hers. 

“Of course, Mr. Stokes,” she smiled, her well-honed conversational skills taking over. “I would think you could sit anywhere you’d like in your own bar.”

She was rewarded with a small smile that was no more than a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, but just enough to change the shape of his carefully cut facial hair. “You’re not expecting anyone, then?” he said casually, ordering a whiskey for himself and another martini for her.

“Actually, I was expecting you,” she said. 

“Oh, really?” he turned and arched an eyebrow at her, a hint of skepticism in his measured glance. “Why might that be, Miss DeRosier?”

“Madam DeRosier,” she corrected him lightly. “And I was encouraged to contact you by a colleague of mine. You might know her: Madam Lyon.”

“Ah, that kind of madam,” Stokes said, eyeing her with wary curiosity. “You’re a friend of hers?”

“More competitor than friend,” Venus replied. “But she was kind enough to point me in your direction for certain types of ... assistance.”

“I haven’t heard your name around Melbourne before,” he said, taking a swig of his drink, but not taking the bait.

“Well, you see, I’ve recently moved to town from Sydney,” she recounted. “Three months ago, my club there was raided by the police and right after that suffered a suspicious fire.” She took a long drag from her cigarette, allowing her voice to waver just a bit. The pain and anger were still raw, despite her cavalier attempts to leave them behind. But few men could resist a damsel in distress, and Henry’s reaction would tell her a lot about him. “Everything I’d built was burned to a charred heap,” she went on, “and they still haven’t sent anyone to jail for it.”

“That’s a damn shame,” he said with a serious nod, turning in his seat to face her more fully. He was drawn into her story, and Venus took that as a good sign.

“So, I collected the insurance money and decided I needed a change of scenery,” she concluded. “Melbourne has a reputation for being friendly to those of us in certain types of businesses,” she gave him a knowing look and he nodded. “Sounded like a good place to start over.”

“Well, welcome to Melbourne, then,” Henry offered and raised his glass toward her. She returned the favor and the tapped crystal vessels rang like a bell. “Have you gotten set up yet?”

“As it happens, that’s why I’ve come to you, Mr. Stokes,” she said, leaning toward him, allowing him a nice view of her cleavage, which he took advantage of with a long gaze before pulling his eyes back up to hers. 

“Go on,” he said, that slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth again. 

“I’m looking for a suitable location, close to the action, but a decent neighborhood so as to not deter the right kind of clientele. I’m sure you can imagine the type of structure I’d need.”

“I might be able to connect you with a real estate agent I know,” Stokes nodded. “Also suppliers of alcohol, food, and so forth; the kind that know how to do business with people like us.”

“That would be wonderful, Mr. Stokes,” she said, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “And once I’m up and running, I’m sure there will be ways our businesses can be of mutual benefit to each other.”

“Just our businesses, Madam DeRosier?” Stokes asked, leaning closer to her this time, looking her up and down again.

Venus knew she was treading a tricky path by implying they might do business together, but what Stokes was implying was a much greater risk, and one she was not interested in exploring again any time soon. She took a slow sip of her drink and gave him a heavy-lidded smile over the rim of her glass, taking the moment to swallow the butterflies that suddenly began to rise from her stomach. Where the hell did those come from? “I’m sure we can work something out,” she said carefully, skirting around his innuendo. “At the very least, a free membership would be in order,” she added.

“That’s a start,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. Venus’ skin started to tingle with a mix of gooseflesh and cold sweat, and she took another drag on her cigarette. She’d done her research on Henry Stokes, and knew he was the Crime King of Melbourne, having eliminated much of his competition over the last ten years. He had a reputation for being methodical and ruthless, but was able to mostly avoid jail time, with only a few slap-on-the-wrist fines. He also had law enforcement firmly in his pocket, from low-level jacks to high-level judges. He was not a man to be trifled with, or one you wanted to cross. She had no intention of doing either, but she hadn’t intended to be attracted to him. Her research hadn’t said anything about his good looks or magnetism. 

“Do you have that real estate agent’s number handy?” she asked, collecting her wits again. “Or should I return at a more businesslike hour?”

His small smile returned, and this time it extended to the corners of his eyes. He tossed back the last of his whiskey and said, “Follow me.” He held out his hand for her to help her off the bar stool, and she wondered if the warmth of their brief touch went straight to his gut the way it did to hers. He led her back through the tables with a hand lightly on her back, but burning a hole through her fur just the same. 

A large, expressionless man saw them approach and pulled back a heavy velvet curtain for them to pass through to what appeared to be his office. A carved wooden desk stood prominently to one side of the room, accentuating the ornate wallpaper and shiny brass sconces. Henry Stokes’ taste in decor picked up where his wardrobe left off - expensive, well-ordered, and imposing. 

“Have a seat,” he offered, waving his hand toward the leather-upholstered visitors' chairs and walked around behind his desk. He removed a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the desk, taking out a red leather address book and flipping pages. When he found the page he wanted he took out a fountain pen and small note card and wrote a name and number on it. Setting that aside, he returned the book to the drawer and took out another card and wrote something on that one as well. 

“Give my regards to Frank when you call him,” Stokes said, leaning across the desk and handing the cards to her. “Once you settle on a location, come see me for those other contacts.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she replied, taking the cards and looking at them. The second one only had a phone number, no name. She held it up with raised eyebrows, a silent question. Stokes tapped his desk phone with his fountain pen as his silent answer. She nodded and returned his steady gaze; it couldn’t be every day that Henry Stokes gave out his personal number to a woman he’d just met. 

“It’s the least I can do to help a new neighbor,” he said. “May I buy you another drink?”

“I’d like that,” she nodded, slipping the cards into her purse. 

Stokes relocked the desk, then walked out from behind it and held out his hand for her again. She held her breath and took it as she stood up, bracing for the effect of his touch. This time, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow with a meaningful look and walked her out through the curtain and back to the bar. Venus felt eyes on them as they passed through the tables, but kept her face placid, even as her stomach fluttered and her mind whirred furiously. Henry was the perfect gentleman, but the heat she experienced from his touch made her want him not to be, and his serious gaze could not be ignored. 

They shared another round at the bar and chatted amiably. Stokes asked her questions about Sydney, and she shared what gossip she knew about the crime bosses there, which Stokes found highly entertaining. When he loosened up enough to give her a real smile, the butterflies returned and her professional demeanor cracked, and she swallowed the last of her drink to hide her flustered state. When he ordered another round, however, she demurred. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stokes, but I should be going,” she said, placing a hand on his forearm. The action caused his Adam's apple to bob as he swallowed hard and cleared his throat. She knew men, she knew how they responded to women, and Stokes was no different. He clearly found her attractive, as well. 

She pulled back her hand slowly, not knowing what it might mean; stumbling into a mutual attraction with Melbourne’s top gangster hadn’t been on her to-do list. “Is there a telephone I may use to call a cab?” 

“I can have one of my men drive you,” he offered. “Where do you live?”

“I’m staying at the Windsor for now,” she replied. “And that would be most appreciated.” She was glad she didn’t have a home address yet, because she wasn’t ready for this man to know where she lived.

Stokes waved one of his men over and gave him his orders, then the man disappeared to bring a car to the front of the building. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stokes,” she said when they reached the front door. “I appreciate your assistance so far.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “And please, call me Henry.”

“Thank you, Henry, I’ll do that” she smiled as the car pulled up, waiting a beat before returning the courtesy. “And, yes, you may call me Venus,” she added, the corner of her mouth curling up with a hint of mischief.

“Good night, then, Venus,” he said as he helped her into the car, the low rumble of his voice with her name on his lips seeped deep into her body and she was glad she was sitting down. 

“Good night, Henry,” she nodded and pulled the bottom of her fur into the car before he shut the door. 

Yes, it had been a very good night, indeed. 

+++

Henry Stokes watched the car pull away, an invisible string tugging at his chest until the vehicle turned a corner and the string snapped, startling him out of his reverie. What the hell just happened? He turned and walked back into his casino and stopped at the entrance to look around. The gambling, the drinking, the noise and the smoke were suddenly oppressive and he stormed through the tables toward his office and threw the curtain aside with an angry whoosh. 

He paced, nervous energy dancing through his body. He had heard about the brothel in Sydney that had burned down, but not the name of the madam. His perception of madams was of older women who might have been pretty once, but were better at business than the world’s oldest profession. Which was why his reaction to Venus DeRosier had surprised and confounded him: madams weren’t supposed to be movie-star beautiful. 

When he’d first spotted her halo of blonde curls sitting at his bar, he’d been drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She seemed to glow in the dim lighting, her bright hair and fair skin capturing the light and throwing it back in a gauzy aura. Stokes had never seen a woman command such an untamable element as light, but somehow she did. 

He chided himself for such fanciful thoughts; he was a crime boss, not a romantic poet. And yet, there was nothing criminal about his honest attraction to her. Of course she was skilled in the art of pleasant conversation, making a man believe she was fascinated by him even if she wasn’t. But there had been a few moments when she’d let her guard slip and he’d seen the soft surprise in her eyes as well, and how she’d covered her reactions with a puff of her cigarette or a sip of her drink. 

It had been a long time since he’d experienced these feelings, but he did remember them. Memories surfaced of a pretty girl from his youth who he’d kissed once or twice behind a stand of pines near the school, not long before she’d died from influenza. And of his ex-wife, Annie, the first time they’d met outside a brothel in Hobart - he’d been kicked out for not having the money to pay for his drink, and she was headed in to look for work. They’d practically run each other down on the doorstep. Instead, she’d bought him a beer at a local pub and they’d talked all night long. Yes, that was what he’d felt when he’d met Venus tonight. Oh, he’d satisfied his cravings a few times since Annie had left, but this was different.

He was more than willing to help a new addition to Melbourne’s underworld, a brothel wasn’t any competition for him, and he would make sure he was properly compensated. He would have helped her anyway, but he didn’t want her to think he was using their mutual attraction as collateral in any business dealings. He needed to find a way to conduct business with her while keeping their attraction separate, if at all possible. He also wanted her to trust him, which was why he’d given her his direct phone number, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do his research on her. That was a project for tomorrow, however; right now, he needed a drink, and some way to get Venus off his mind. 

He poured himself two fingers of whiskey and sat down at his desk. That day’s edition of The Argus was sitting on top of some paperwork, opened to an article about an attempted bank robbery in Adelaide. He’d already read the article, but decided to open the paper and read the other news, just to pass the time. On the front page was a photo of a woman seated in a biplane, a society dame called “The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher.” The caption glowed about her recent “triumphant return” to the Antipodes after touring Europe and Asia for the better part of a year. 

Stokes had heard about Phryne Fisher, seen her photo in both The Argus and The Globe before, usually associated with charity functions, or on the arm of an eligible bachelor. His curiosity was piqued by her ability to fly a plane so he started reading the article. She’d taken off for England last September, married a Maharaja, was presumed killed while rescuing an imprisoned Bedouin girl in Jerusalem, crashed her own memorial service in London, returned to the Negev to end an ancient curse and solve the mystery of a war crime, moved on to India to solve the murder of a crown prince, prevented the destruction of an ancient temple in Nepal, located the kidnapped daughter of the Crown Governor of Burma, and solved the murder of a bank president in Singapore while exposing an illegal opium export business. Stokes was worn out just reading of her exploits. 

The most intriguing part of the article for him, however, was this: “Miss Fisher was joined in London by Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of the Victoria Police Force, who had traveled there for her memorial service, and became her companion for the rest of their journey. The couple arrived in Melbourne two weeks ago to the delight of their family and friends. Robinson will resume his position as Senior Investigator at City South Police Station, and Miss Fisher will continue to pursue her charity efforts alongside her private detective work.” A photo of the pair standing next to the plane was printed in the inside portion of the article.

Stokes took out the loupe he used to examine stolen gemstones before fencing them, and held it up to the photo of Robinson. He’d heard of the detective, of course, but Robinson dealt with homicide whereas Stokes’ business attracted cops assigned to vice, so their paths had never crossed. What drew him to the photo was how the face of the man looking back at him had turned the magnifier into a mirror: he and Robinson looked so much alike, they could be brothers, or even twins. 

Stokes stroked his expertly carved facial hair. His surprise reaction to Venus had unsettled him, but looking at his double in the newspaper gave him the creepy feeling of childhood ghost stories. He swigged down the last of his whiskey in one gulp, wondering why he’d been given two startling revelations in one evening. He shrewdly decided the coincidence had to mean something, he just didn’t know what it was yet. 

He drummed his fingers on the desk. If he played his cards right, there might be a way to relieve Miss Fisher of some of her extra cash, and also add an actual “Jack” to the list of jacks in his pocket, a coincidence that generated a snort of laughter. A man in Henry’s position could never have too much influence over law enforcement. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worth having came easy. There was no such thing as luck or coincidence, in his mind, only solid planning and expert execution. That was why his illegal gambling operation, the largest in the city, didn't run on luck. Far from it. His casinos and two-up schools were designed to favor the house through mathematical calculations that were reliable and predictable. With that in mind, he added the wealthy socialite and the senior detective to his list of people to research, and decided he would have to keep his wits about him, in regard to both the alluring Venus DeRosier and the seemingly formidable investigative team of Fisher and Robinson.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m sure you can see how this oversized parlor would be suitable for your club’s needs,” said Frank Trout, The Big Fish of Melbourne real estate. 

“Yes,” Venus mused, walking around the large second floor space one more time. Combined with a smaller parlor across the hall for a bar, the half dozen bedrooms on the third floor, and office space on the ground floor, the building would be perfect. It’s proximity to the city center, while still in respectable Albert Street, was also a strong selling point. There was plenty of work to be done before she could officially open, but finding the right property was the biggest hurdle. 

“I understand it’s only a lease, but would the owner be interested in selling?” she asked.

Trout dropped his jaw in surprise, looking very much like his namesake fish. “He lives in Adelaide, ma’am,” he said when he’d recovered. “I’ll have to call him.” 

“That’s fine,” she said with a half smile and a wave of her hand. Women buying real estate must not be as common in Melbourne as it was in Sydney. “It might take a year or so before I’d be able to swing it, but let him know I’m interested at some point in the future.”

“Will do, ma’am.” 

“Do you know any carpenters, repair men, painters?” she asked him. 

“I have a list of quality workmen in my book back at the office.”

“Good,” she said, then looked directly at him. “What do I need to do to secure this site right now?”

“I brought the lease paperwork with me, just in case you made up your mind today,” Trout said, taking the document out of his jacket pocket and handing it to her. She unfolded it and walked toward a window, scanning carefully in the brighter light. 

“I can give you cash for the first month right now, if you’ll hold it for me for a day or two. I’ll need to go over this lease carefully before I sign, but I don’t want to lose this property.”

“That works for me,” he said. “Honestly, there haven’t been many offers; you’re the only one whose been interested in this place for months. It’s too close to the business district for a family home, and too old fashioned for a modern office.”

Venus took a fountain pen out of her purse and started writing in the blank space at the bottom of the last page. “First month’s rent of £30 cash received by Frank Trout from Venus DeRosier.”

“Sign here,” she said, handing him her pen. Trout signed and she handed him the money out of her purse. “I appreciate you offering to hold it without the money, Mr. Trout, but I do not want special treatment. I’ll have this lease contract back to you in forty-eight hours. Have that list of repairmen handy.”

“Will do, ma’am,” he said. “Can I give you a lift back to the Windsor?”

“Yes, please,” Venus nodded. They exited the building and Venus looked back up at the imposing columned facade and her shoulders relaxed. She easily envisioned herself as proprietress of Melbourne’s newest, high-end gentlemen's club. Walking through the building brought it all back and she was anxious to get started. 

Back in her room at the Windsor, she sat down at the writing desk and took out a notebook she’d been using to record her activities, expenses, and plans. She spent some time making lists of things she’d need to do, work that needed to be done immediately, expenses that would need to be sorted out, and sketching a few ideas for the small stage and bar areas. She thought about reusing the name of her club from Sydney, but didn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention. A name would come when the time was right. She had grand visions, but they would only be achieved by methodical hard work. 

When she was finished, she checked the clock - half-past four. She turned to the back of the notebook where an embedded pocket held calling cards and other ephemera. She took out the card Henry had given her with just his number on it and turned it in her fingers. It had been two days since they’d met and she couldn’t stop thinking about him - which was a dangerous position for a madam to be in. “Service to all, favoritism to none,” had been her motto in business, and often in life. It had spared her from much professional and personal heartache over the years, and it was a strong wall she’d built which had led to a solid reputation and much success. Until it hadn’t. What happened in Sydney had tested the limits of her motto to the breaking point, and Henry Stokes was testing it again. 

She couldn’t ignore him, however; she owed him for the recommendation of the real estate agent. So she picked up the phone and dialed the number, wondering if Stokes would even be in his casino this early. 

“Stokes Enterprises.” The voice on the other end was decidedly not Henry’s.

“I’d like to speak to Mr. Stokes, please,” she said. 

“Who’s callin’?”

“Tell him it’s Venus,” she said.

“Venus?”

“Yes. You know, like the planet?” She could have said, “like the goddess”, but didn’t want to confuse him further.

“Oh, sure, Miss.” There was a clunk as the phone handle was laid on the desk and muffled voices could be heard. Hissed instructions and a fearful “Yes, boss,” brought a grin as she imagined Henry kicking the man out of his office. A moment later, after what she assumed was the time Henry needed to collect himself, his voice came over the line. 

“Stokes here.” It was low and gruff with a trace of bored civility, as if he couldn’t be bothered. Oh, so he was going to play hard to get, was he? Venus smiled. She would certainly win that game. 

“Henry,” she said, adding a drip of honey to her tone. “I’m so glad I caught you.”

“Madam DeRosier,” he replied. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” He was overcompensating with his formal greeting, not wanting her to catch the actual pleasure her call had brought him, and she smiled at the thought.

“I have good news to share, but I was wondering if we might discuss it over dinner here at the Windsor, which I would gladly charge to my room. The Beef Bourguignon is incredible.”

“Dinner?” Henry said. “That’s an offer worth considering.”

“Only considering?” she replied, her voice lifting at the end of her question.

“Madam DeRosier,” he began.

“Venus, please,” she interrupted.

“Venus,” he corrected himself. “I appreciate your offer, but I haven’t dined in public for quite some time. It’s safer for everyone.”

“Don’t tell me the Crime King of Melbourne cooks for himself at home,” she teased. 

“No,” he replied, the smile returning to his voice. “I have an excellent chef on staff here who prepares dinner for me and my men every night. If you’d like to join me here this evening, you would be most welcome.”

“Then how am I going to thank you for giving me Frank Trout’s number?” she asked.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” he replied, his tone casual and self-assured. “Maybe even a business proposition. Shall I have one of my men pick you up at six?”

“What kind of business proposition?” Venus’ asked, wariness prickling at the edge of her consciousness.

“It wouldn’t be proper to discuss it over the phone,” he replied.

“Then I will see your man at six o’clock.” They said goodbye, and she smiled as she hung up. Interacting with a smitten Henry Stokes on his own turf would provide valuable information - if she didn’t allow herself to be distracted by her own attraction to him. 

She looked through her limited wardrobe for just the right dress and chose a sky blue number with silver beading. The sheath fell just to her knees and the fringed beading extended a few more inches, making the dress look longer than it actually was. She would pair the dress with her silver shoes, a silver headpiece, and cool, red lipstick. Dabbing a bit of Jicky, her favorite French perfume, on her pulse points completed her ensemble. 

Looking at herself in the full length mirror was quite satisfying. A woman must use all the tools at her disposal, especially when negotiating business with a man. The fact that she was attracted to Henry Stokes, and he to her, did figure into her preparations, but the trick now was to hide it better than he did, and use it to her advantage. Not that she wanted to take advantage of him - she knew that was a dangerous idea - she just wanted to maintain the upper hand. 

She wrapped herself in her white ermine coat, another gift from another satisfied - and wealthy - client, and headed down to the lobby. She was unaffected by the obvious stares as she walked across the marble expanse toward the front door, unashamed of her own beauty. The things she was ashamed of could never be seen by the naked eye. 

Outside, Stokes’ driver was waiting for her, leaning against the car. He greeted her with a polite “good evening” as he helped her into the vehicle, then drove swiftly back to Richmond.

+++

“You alright, boss?” Snag asked while Henry paced a small section of sidewalk in front of his headquarters. The bulky doorman received a hard glare in return, and responded with a muffled, “Sorry, boss.” 

Henry knew he’d been antsy the last two days, thinking about Venus far too often for his liking. His men were noticing his distraction and his normally gruff interactions with them were becoming uncharacteristically snappy as well. He was obviously losing his fucking mind over her and it irritated the hell out of him. 

His research on Madam Venus DeRosier had been enlightening. Despite her youth - Henry guessed she was in her mid-thirties, ten years his junior - she’d been one of the most respected madams in Sydney for the better part of seven years, having taken over the Black Dahlia from the esteemed Madam Juno who retired due to failing health. Venus had not only improved the club’s business, but, according to Henry’s sources, had started adding a few sideline businesses to increase profits. Specially prepared “headache powders” and “signature smokes” - cocaine and hashish, respectively - had been available for sale at her establishment, along with the usual male-female interactions. She had also hosted a high-stakes poker game in a back room every week. Henry had a strict “no drugs” policy - it was far too dangerous to get involved with that element. But if Venus chose to engage in any gambling sidelies in her Melbourne club, then it was possible a mutually beneficial arrangement could be made. 

The contacts he’d spoken to couldn’t say enough good things about her; she was a tough but fair businesswoman, kind to those truly in need, and knew how to make a deal. They told him how she’d been devastated when the Black Dahlia had burned to the ground after a police raid. The rumor was that she’d gotten mixed up with an undercover detective, but somehow she’d betrayed him and he ordered the raid and then torched the place. No one he’d talked to that day knew the real story, but Henry would keep it in mind. It was wise to tread carefully around a woman with such turbulence in her recent past. 

A car turned onto the street a few blocks down and Henry ducked inside, not wanting to be seen waiting for her on the sidewalk like a lovestruck youth. He took a deep breath and straightened his tie, then strode confidently out just as the car pulled up. He opened the door for her and held out his hand, and she slipped her small one in his as she alighted from the vehicle. 

“Henry Stokes,” she greeted him, a teasing smile on her lips. “Playing footman at your own establishment? Don’t you have men for that?”

God, she was gorgeous tonight, like the summer sun in a clear blue sky, standing on his doorstep, smiling at him and ribbing him at the same time. He knew, given her profession, that it was too much to hope she could ever be his alone, but dammit, he was hoping anyway. 

“Some things a man must do himself,” he replied, tucking her hand into his elbow. “Wouldn’t you agree, Madam DeRosier?”

“Certainly,” she said, curling her fingers slightly into his arm and his muscles tensed without his permission. “And that’s the last time you call me that tonight, promise?”

“I promise, Venus,” he smiled down at her. He had a hunch Venus wasn’t her real name, but that didn’t matter when he was escorting a goddess through his business. Her mere presence elevated the market value of the place.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” he said, leading her to the bar. “May I offer you a drink first? A martini, perhaps?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” she said as he handed her up onto a bar stool and she let her fur fall off her shoulders to reveal her creamy skin and more of her glittering, low-cut dress. When she crossed her legs, her hem slipped back, exposing her silk-stockinged knee, and his eyes lingered shamelessly.

“Like what you see?” she asked him, and his eyes flicked back up to hers.

“Absolutely,” he replied, biting his tongue to avoid licking his lips. Any pretense of disinterest he may have wanted to maintain had evaporated in the heat of her presence. 

“So do I,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a sly smile, her eyes scanning down his torso and back up. He swallowed hard and his stomach fluttered, while electricity hummed between them.

Their drinks arrived, breaking the spell, and he lifted his toward her in a toast, glad for the small distraction. “To partnerships,” he said.

“And good neighbors,” she added, gently tapping her glass to his. He watched her sip, her throat undulating as she swallowed, and his mouth could almost feel her skin under his lips. He cleared his throat and looked down at his drink, fighting for control of his thoughts. 

“So,” he began, hoping some conversation would keep him from wanting to devour her on the spot. “You said you met with Frank?”

“I did. He showed me a couple locations today and I put a month’s rent down on one of them,” she said. 

“Congratulations,” he smiled. “I’m sure that’s a weight off your mind.”

“Thank you, it is. I haven’t signed the contract just yet, however. I was wondering if you might take a look at it for me, to make sure it’s all on the up-and-up. I’ve read it over myself, but I want to be certain there’s nothing in there that would put me at a disadvantage.” 

“I’d be happy to,” he agreed. “After dinner.” 

“Fair enough,” she nodded. 

“Mr. Stokes,” he turned to see his chef enter the bar. “Your dinner is served.”

“Ah, perfect timing,” he said, standing up and turning toward the man. “John, I’d like you to meet Madam Venus DeRosier. Madam DeRosier, my chef, John Anthony.”

“How do you do, Madam?” he said with a slight bow of his head. “Please, call me John.”

“A pleasure to meet you, as well, Chef John,” she replied, shaking his hand. 

“I’m sure you’ve outdone yourself tonight, John,” Henry said. “But you’re going to have to keep it up. I’m expecting Madam DeRosier will be joining us for many more dinners in the future.”

“I’ll do my best, sir, madam,” he nodded. “Right this way.” Henry offered his arm and Venus tucked her hand into his elbow as he led her to the small dining area next to his office. He hung her wrap and bag on a nearby coat rack, and when he turned back she was giving him a sultry smile and striking a subtle pose. He raked his eyes over her and she didn’t blush but seemed to enjoy it, enticing him further but reminding him she did this for a living. If he wasn’t careful, she’d easily gain the upper hand and he couldn’t have that. 

He led her to the table, which had been set for two, per his instructions. Usually he ate with a few of his men, but there was no way he wanted to share this meal with anyone else. His men would have to put up with eating in the kitchen whenever Venus was in attendance. 

+++

Poor Henry. Venus smiled as he pulled out her chair for her and then sat down at the head of the table. He was more than merely smitten, he was a goner. His attraction was uncensored, almost feral, like a bearskin rug beckoning her with its talons. Not that she minded, it made her shiver like a schoolgirl, of all things. She, Venus DeRosier, high class madam, swallowing giddy, teenage feelings in the presence of Melbourne’s Most Wanted gangster. “Really, Venus,” her mother’s voice tut-tutted in her head. “The men you pick.”

She had never let her mother’s opinion change her mind, however. Despite being a major criminal, Henry Stokes was a gentleman who enjoyed the finer things, and his desire to keep a low profile spoke to his self-confidence. Unlike some of the narcissists and manipulative arseholes she’d met through her line of work, not all of them criminals, Henry Stokes was sane by comparison. 

Their conversation flowed easily over the excellent meal, cornish game hens with whipped potatoes and sauteed vegetables, and a delicious rose’ from Maiden Creek. Henry listened with interest as she talked about her newly-acquired property and her plans for her business. She was fascinated by his stories of the Melbourne crime world, including tales of the late Squizzy Talor, and the Fitzroy Vendetta against Long Harry Slater. But like the tortoise, Henry Stokes had always focused on his own goals and his own business and, slow and steady, came out on top. There were new gangs in recent years, but they were prone to fight among themselves and none had challenged Henry’s position at the top - not yet anyway. 

Several times during the meal, he reached under the table and placed his hand on her knee. The first time had caught her by surprise, his warm fingers sending a sizzle up her leg. She’d stopped mid-sentence and looked at him, his eyes dark and intense, requesting permission. She’d taken a long blink to flutter her eyelashes at him, but when she looked back up, she smiled and angled her knee closer to him. He returned her smile with a slow-forming one of his own, and his gaze softened, while his hand smoothed slowly over her silk stocking. 

Granting that permission was more than just a touch on her knee; she knew Henry would feel a sense of entitlement between them, and it was fine by her if he did, for now. If he wanted her, he would protect her, and that could be invaluable. This was just a first step, however, and she was still prepared to sever ties if he proved unstable or untrustworthy, although she hoped she wouldn’t have to. 

“Why don’t we move into my office and I can look at that contract,” he suggested when they’d finished dessert.

“That sounds cozy,” she smiled, and they moved to the other side of the room. Henry mumbled something to one of his men and pulled the curtains closed. When he turned around, the corner of his mouth was turned up and his eyes were soft. He walked toward her and stood very close. Her skin warmed all over and her heart rate increased. She wasn’t physically afraid of him; she believed he wouldn’t hurt her. But she didn’t yet know if she could fully trust him, and she was still wondering what he’d meant by “partnership” when they were toasting over drinks before dinner. 

“So,” she said, holding her ground. “Let me get that contract for you to look at.”

“Please,” he replied, but neither of them moved. For a heartbeat or two, she thought he might kiss her. Then he looked down and stepped back, dousing the flare of heat between them, and waving his hand toward the visitors chairs again. 

She exhaled her held breath as quietly as she could, and walked over to the coat rack where her fur and purse had been hung and took the document out of her bag. Stokes seated himself behind his desk and turned on a green-shaded lamp. She handed him the contract, and watched him as he unfolded it and read. She imagined he must appear this way most days when he was conducting business at his desk, whatever that business entailed. His eyes moved quickly back and forth across the page, forehead squinted in scrutiny a few times, a few murmurs as he read certain lines halfway aloud to himself. It wasn’t all that exciting, but he was intentional and serious, and that bode well for future negotiations. 

“It all seems rather boilerplate - nothing out of the ordinary, basic language and terms,” he said. “Frank’s a lot of talk, but he’s a simple man and not very bright, so I wouldn’t expect his contracts to be overly complicated. But this,” he pointed to where she’d had Trout sign that he’d received her money. “Shows a level of shrewdness that impresses me.”

“I’ve learned to protect my interests on all fronts,” she stated with a proud lift of her chin. 

“And that is why I want us to be business partners, because I certainly don’t want to be your adversary,” he said.

“Partners?” she asked and he nodded. His suggestion surprised her and she quickly schooled her features to cover her wariness. “And how do you see that working out?” she asked.

“I want to invest in your club.”

Venus fought every muscle in her face that wanted to flinch. Instead she blinked slowly and leaned back in her chair - it was her turn to act uninterested, even though her brain was screaming with questions and her heart was suddenly a battleground between gratitude and suspicion.

“In what way?” she finally replied. 

“I have a building near the docks I no longer need and I have an interested buyer,” he leaned back in his own chair and laced his fingers across his middle. “I was looking for the right enterprise to reinvest those proceeds into and I’ve decided that your club is it.”

“That’s quite generous of you Henry,” she said, still wary.

“Nothing generous about it,” he said. “Purely business. You can use some of it for start-up capital and save some for operating expenses later, and as things progress, we can negotiate a repayment schedule.”

“Why would you want to invest in a gentlemen’s club? Doesn’t seem your style.”

“I see the potential for long-term growth,” he replied. 

“Will this be purely a financial investment, or are you interested in being a decision-maker as well?”

“Financial only. I’m happy to leave the decisions to you,” he stated. 

“Dare I ask how much?” she said. 

“Somewhere in the neighborhood of £3,000.”

Again, Venus had to control her reaction. That was a serious sum of money, and almost what she’d received in her insurance settlement for the Black Dahlia. 

“Henry, I would never presume to tell you how to run your business, but-”

“Then don’t,” he cut her off. 

She contemplated his sober face for a moment. “Why me?” she asked. 

“Because you’re good at what you do, and I like to surround myself with talented people.” 

“I think there’s more to it than that,” she said, crossing her legs and sliding her hem back off her knee in one subtle move, accepting his compliment while daring him to acknowledge her suggestion. Henry glanced down at her knee and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he slowly drew his eyes back up to her face.

“There is,” he admitted, his steady blue gaze holding both desire and challenge. 

“You should know, I keep my relationships with my clients strictly professional,” she stated. It was reflexive, and slightly aloof, a response well-honed over the years and designed to deflect insincere and overeager offers, neither of which applied to Henry and he knew it. 

“I’m not interested in being your client,” he asserted. His voice softened, but his eyes never left hers, calling her bluff, forcing her to ask the follow-up question. 

“What did you have in mind, then?” 

“Something more... personal,” he stated. “Unrelated to our business partnership.” 

“I see,” she replied. He didn’t want to be her client, but he wanted what every other man wanted, with no strings attached if they could get it. “Is the latter contingent upon the former?” she asked. She would not sacrifice her hard-won independence, even to a man who was offering her £3000 toward her new club.

“Venus, I’m not talking about another business deal.” There was a twinge of frustration in his voice that she hadn’t expected. 

“Is that so,” she said. Was she misreading him?

“Of course I wouldn’t make my investment contingent upon whether or not anything personal developed between us,” he explained. “I would be happy with just the business partnership, but both would be preferable.”

His tone was calm and careful, but his eyes were still serious. The realization of what he was saying bloomed quickly and all too closely to her defenses. “Henry Stokes, you hardly know me,” she waved her hand, pretending to casually brush off the whole idea. 

“But I want to,” he persisted. “And anyone you talk to will tell you that I get what I want.”

“And if it’s not what I want?” The pitch of her voice rose in protest of his implication that he could just have her if he wanted her.

“I was merely referring to the two of us getting to know each other better,” he explained, hands open and palms up in apology. “You are certainly free to walk away if you decide you don’t like me.”

“What if you don’t like me,” she challenged. “What happens to your investment?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, but I don’t make business decisions based on emotions,” he said. “Do you think I did business with Squizzy because I liked him? No, I would remain your investor until we mutually agree I divest, or in the highly unlikely instance you betray me professionally.” 

The stipulation hung in the air for a moment and Venus willed herself not to gulp at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t be successful in my line of work, Mr. Stokes, if I went about betraying people, now would I,” she recovered, the formality of his last name providing emotional distance. “Professionally or personally,” she concluded, ignoring the thoughts that mocked her from the charred heap that used to be the Black Dahlia.

“Good,” Henry nodded, then rose from his chair. He walked around the desk to her and held out his hand. She placed her hand in his and stood, his eyes focused on hers.

“Congratulations, business partner,” he said, shaking her hand. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of her knuckles. “I want you to trust me, too,” he said quietly. 

Venus’ insides melted. Henry Stokes was not playing a game with her, and he wasn’t just trying to get under her dress, although she didn’t doubt he wanted to. He was direct and honest, and his rough-edged charm had gotten under her skin. The warning bells went off in her head all the same.

“I believe you’ll be a perfectly trustworthy business partner,” she said, pulling her hand away carefully. “Other than that, I don’t usually trust anyone.” It was an instinctive brush off, another of several she’d used so far tonight. The events that had caused her to leave Sydney were still too fresh for anything beyond a handshake over business. 

“I understand,” he nodded. “But in the meantime, we can work out the investment details, alright?”

“Alright,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

Even though the air between them sizzled, Henry seemed to sense her wariness and stepped back, leaning back against his desk, giving her space. 

“Are you planning to stick around tonight?” he asked, changing the subject to something more casual. “The tables will be open in about thirty minutes, you’re welcome to play if you’d like, and you’ll never pay for a drink here.”

“Thank you, Henry, but maybe another night,” she said, needing to escape his aura, lest she make a bad decision. 

“How about one more drink before you leave, to mark our new partnership, then I’ll have one of my men drive you back.”

“Alright, then,” she nodded. 

“Whiskey?” he asked, moving to the bar cart on the side of the room. 

“Sure, that’s fine,” she smiled. 

“What will you be naming your club?” he asked her as he poured.

“Don’t know yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something soon.”

“Then here’s to the as-yet-to-be-named Madam DeRosier’s Gentlemen’s Club of Melbourne,” he said, lifting his glass. “To great success and longevity.”

“Hear, hear,” she replied, clinking her glass to his and taking a sip. “Your investment will guarantee that, I’m sure.” The whiskey warmed its way down her throat, bringing a measure of welcome relaxation after the intense negotiations she and Henry had just concluded. 

“As will your particular skills and talents, I’m sure,” he added. 

“Hmm, yes,” she said, another long sip and her limbs loosened along with her thoughts. Now that they had shaken and toasted on their business partnership, maybe it was time he got a taste of her particular talents. “You know, Henry,” she cooed, stepping back into his personal space. “One of the reasons I was successful in Sydney was because I kept tabs on what my competitors were doing and adjusted accordingly. It would be very helpful to know what the established clubs here were doing before I open, so I can start off one step ahead.”

“You mean, other than the usual activities associated with such places?” he asked, a sly smile playing at the corner of his mouth now that she was on the offensive. 

“Hmm, yes. So I was wondering,” she reached up and lightly fingered his lapel. “Would you be interested in performing some reconnaissance on the other clubs for me?” She glanced down at his tie then back up at him through her lashes. 

“The scales are already tipped heavily in my favor with things I’m doing for you,” he countered. “Why should I add any more?”

“Henry,” she dropped her voice into a sultry alto. “The only thing I’ve asked you for is information. Everything else you’re doing has been your choice.”

“True,” he said, sliding his hand down her arm, sending goosebumps scurrying in all directions across her skin. “But that means I hold the cards.”

“I can always find someone else if you don’t want to,” she said with a sigh of faux disappointment and her favorite pretty pout. “I wouldn’t want you to feel compelled. I suppose you’re far too busy for something like that.”

He put his glass down on the desk, then took her glass from her and put it next to his. He placed both hands on her hips and pulled her toward him so she had to step between his feet. 

“You don’t need to toy with me, Venus,” he said quietly. “Although you’re very good at it and I do enjoy it. But if you want something, just ask me. I promise I’ll be straight with you if you’re straight with me.” 

Maybe it was his position against the desk that brought their faces level and made him less imposing, or maybe it was the earnest tone in his voice, but any wariness she’d had earlier vanished on a whiff of his Bay Rum aftershave. She allowed her fingers to play with his tie, and she allowed the question of “what if” to surface. She knew she didn’t have to answer it any time soon, but for now she could allow the question to exist. 

“Would you, Henry?” she began. “Would you be able to find out more about the other clubs for me?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching up. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“My pleasure.” His voice was still quiet and his eyes still serious. She wanted to pull away, wanted space to figure out what was happening and what it meant, but she hadn’t felt this comfortable with a man for a long, long time. She’d forgotten how much she liked it. 

“Do you think all of our business meetings will be held in such,” she paused for the right words. “Close quarters?” she smiled.

“Ideally,” he replied. He moved his hands from her hips to the small of her back, causing her to move another half step closer, and eliciting a small gasp from her throat.

“You don’t think it mixes business a little too snugly with pleasure?” she asked, recovering her faculties.

“If you can’t take pleasure in your business, why do it?”

“You have an answer to everything, don’t you.”

“Usually,” he said with a smirk. “But I wonder what your answer would be, Venus.”

“To what?”

“To this.” He leaned in closer and brushed his lips to hers in a soft, simple kiss. Sparks ricocheted throughout her body even while she froze on her feet. Her heart pounded and her mind raced. She needed to think, analyze, and formulate what this meant, but she couldn’t; she’d suddenly lost all ability to calculate, conspire and predict. She’d been cut free from her moorings and was drifting into uncharted waters. 

“Well, Venus?” Henry’s whisper prodded, ragged with hesitancy and hope. “What is your answer?”

In that moment, she was not a high-class madam in the arms of the city’s biggest gangster; they were just two people who fate had brought together and who were deeply attracted to one another. Her defenses cracked and she understood what Henry wanted and realized she wanted it, too.

“My answer is this,” she whispered back, closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. A muffled moan lifted from his throat and he wrapped his arms around her. She slid her arms over his shoulders and leaned in further, pressing herself against him. His tongue traced her lips and she parted them for him as their kiss deepened. 

Every nerve in her body was buzzing with electricity. Henry was an enthusiastic kisser and didn’t hesitate to show it. She held on tight as he devoured her mouth, returning his kisses with equal vigor, which only egged him on. A giggle bubbled up from deep within and she broke the kiss to throw back her head and laugh, feeling every bit as carefree as the young flappers she’d seen in the bar the other night. Henry didn’t break stride, but aimed his lips at her throat and worked his way down to the hollow between her collarbones and back up the other side. 

“God, Venus, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into her neck, his mustache dragging rough tickles across her sensitive skin. 

“You’re pretty handsome yourself,” she replied, teasing the short hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I know I said I’d still do business with you even if there was nothing personal between us,” he breathed, their foreheads pressed together. “But I want you to know, if I had to choose, I would choose the personal over the business, hands down.”

“Even if I set up a rival two-up school?” she teased softly.

“Even if.”

She pulled her head back to give him a quizzical look. “Rivals by day, lovers by night?”

“Heaven,” he grinned. 

“You’re crazy,” she whispered. 

“Maybe,” he said and kissed her again.  
+++


	3. Chapter 3

Henry handed her into the car and shut the door, then stood on the curb and watched until it turned the corner out of sight. The invisible string tugged at him again, but this time it made him smile: He had kissed Venus DeRosier and she had returned the favor, and things between them looked quite promising. 

He strode confidently back through his casino, greeting patrons and shaking hands. He stopped at the bar for a glass of whiskey and talked horse racing with a district judge and a well-known doctor. When a fight broke out at one of the tables - something that resulted in instant dismissal for the night - Henry and Snag grabbed the two men and pushed them out into the street without the usual beat-down they would have normally received. 

“Didn’t you want me to beat ‘em up, Boss?”

“Not tonight,” Henry said. “They’re more likely to come back sooner if they don’t look like you put their faces through a meat grinder.”

“Oh, okay, Boss,” Snag nodded, disappointed. “Boss?” he asked. “Are you in a good mood?”

“Yes, why?” Henry snapped. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“No, I just,” Snag scrunched up his face, confused. “You’re different, that’s all.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” Snag shook his head vigorously. “Is it cuz of that dame?”

“That ‘dame’ is Madam DeRosier to you, and my business with her is none of your business.”

“Yes, boss,” Snag nodded and followed Henry back into the building. 

Henry strode into his office, propped his feet up on his desk and lit one of his slim cigars, making a mental list of the calls he’d need to make in the morning: lawyer, banker, real estate agent. There were other things he was willing to offer Venus aside from the financial investment, like men for security or even a personal chauffeur if she wanted it. But for now he’d stick to what they’d discussed tonight, and save the gifts for later. 

Gifts: that was not a concept he employed very often. You don’t get very far in any business - particularly illegal ones - by giving gifts. An even exchange was the name of the game, and a little bit more if you could get it. Something about Venus, however, made him want to give her whatever she asked for. The challenge for two people so accustomed to life and business in the underworld, was allowing personal connections to grow and flourish without a quid-pro-quo, or without watching your back every minute. He’d seen the wariness in Venus’ eyes tonight, and he didn’t blame her. She’d obviously done her research on him and had taken a big risk in seeking him out and asking for help. He could easily take advantage of her if he were bent that way, and he had no doubt that if Squizzy had been alive, the little shit would have done exactly that. The thought rankled him, and filled him with the desire to both protect Venus, and treat her with the utmost respect. 

He thought about the rumors he’d been told of the demise of her club in Sydney. What his regular sources said about her betraying the detective and seeking revenge didn’t seem to track with the woman he’d been with tonight. That was another call he’d make tomorrow - to a different contact in Sydney who would find out exactly what happened. While he wouldn’t deny that there was a chance she was the one trying to take advantage of him, and he would certainly protect his own professional interests, he was confident enough to risk taking a chance on her personally. Aside from her stunning looks, she had the wit and intelligence to keep him on his toes, and there was a soft heart hidden behind her layers of defense. He understood those defenses, and he would work hard to earn her trust. 

Their time together tonight had been thrilling. Her beauty was beyond compare, and to have held her in his arms and kissed her had been a privilege he’d not soon forget. He’d enjoyed it when she’d teased and tempted him, but he loved it when she’d let her guard down just enough for him to see the woman behind the professional. When she’d relaxed enough to laugh with delight from his ardent attentions, his heart had leapt in his chest that she’d allowed him to experience such an unguarded moment from her. He’d given her ample opportunity to step back, walk away, or disengage, but she hadn’t done any of those things. Instead, she’d taken the risk and moved closer - a decision he wouldn’t take lightly. And when she was ready to leave, when she’d risked enough for one night, he graciously backed off. To push her would be to push her away; to hold too tightly would be to have her slip between his fingers. Wooing her would take patience, and Henry Stokes knew how to be patient.

++++

“Here’s the keys and you’re all set,” Frank Trout said when she’d finished signing the lease contract in his office, exactly forty-eight hours after she’d given him her deposit. “If you have any questions or problems with the place, the landlord’s name and address in Adelaide is right there in the contract.”

“Thank you, Mr. Trout,” Venus said, tucking the keys in the pocket of her coat and her copy of the lease into her purse. “And I appreciate your assistance in negotiating with the landlord about doing those major renovations. There’s a free membership for you, so please come by once we open to pick up your card.” 

“When do you think that will be?”

“I’ll know more once the work starts. Let’s say two months, if these repairmen you recommend come through.”

“They will,” he assured her. “I look forward to seeing the place when it’s done.” 

They shook hands and Venus left the office, a new spring in her step. Henry’s driver, who she learned was called Frenchy, opened the door for her and whisked her off to Henry’s headquarters. Henry was waiting on the sidewalk and helped her out of the car, then led her into the building and to the bar where a bottle of champagne was waiting in a bucket of ice. 

“Champagne! Henry, you shouldn’t have,” she said, taking off her coat and draping it over a stool and placing her purse and hat on the bar. 

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this business, it’s to celebrate everything,” he said, taking the bottle and wrapping it in a towel. “Because the jacks could show up at any minute.” He turned so the cork wasn’t aimed at anything breakable, and pushed it until it sailed a few feet in the air with a satisfying pop. Venus held the glasses for him and he poured, not caring that the bubbles were running down the side of the bottle and spilling to the floor. 

“Here’s to step one,” he said, holding his glass out to her. “Securing a location.”

“And to holding the keys,” she replied, dangling the ring with three keys in front of him. Their glasses chimed together before they drank. Henry swigged his down in one gulp and stepped close to her, and she smiled up at him. 

“Why do I feel like you’re more excited about this venture than I am?” she asked.

“Maybe it’s because of my new business partner,” he said, slipping his hand around her waist and dropping a kiss on her cheek. 

“You’ll turn my head, Henry Stokes,” she teased, taking a long sip of champagne and fluttering her lashes at him over the rim of her glass.

+++  
“I thought I already had,” he wagged his eyebrows at her. The sound of her laughter rang through the bar, bouncing off the dozens of bottles of spirits and empty glasses arrayed against the mirrored wall. “More champagne?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” They shared a few more glasses, flirting shamelessly with each other while the bubbly buzzed in their veins. 

“‘Scuse me, Boss?” Frenchy said, stepping into the bar area.

“What is it, Frenchy?” he growled, rolling his eyes over to his driver.

“There’s an important call for you.”

“Well, tell them I can’t come to the phone, right now.”

“But Boss, it’s about that delivery from earlier today.” Frenchy raised his eyebrows and flicked his eyes at Venus, who was thankfully taking a sip from her champagne and not looking at Frenchy. 

“Tell them I’ll be right there,” he said and Frenchy ducked out of the bar. 

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, my dear,” he said, touching her shoulder. “I need to take this call. Won’t be long.”

“I’ll be here,” she said. “But the champagne probably won’t,” she joked. 

“Just save me one glass,” he said as he left the bar and went to his office. “Stokes here,” he said into the phone. 

“Mr. Stokes, this is Bill from the flower shop. There’s no one named Venus DeRosier registered at the Windsor. What would you like me to do?”

He was startled, but not surprised. She certainly had reason enough to not use her professional name. So he gave Bill from the flower shop a detailed description of Venus, including a distinctive brooch she was wearing on her coat, and instructed him to re-deliver the flowers. Bill said he would take care of it, and Henry hoped that would be enough.

“So, do you wanna see it, Henry?” she asked when he returned to the bar, her words slurring just a little.

“See what?” he replied, his eyes suddenly wide and looking her up and down.

“Not that, silly,” she waved her hand at him. “Well, I’m sure you do want to see that.”

“You know I do,” he rumbled, moving closer. He’d tossed and turned in bed the last two nights, trying not to think about the delicious kiss they’d shared two nights prior, her body pressed against his and the feel of her lovely throat under his lips.

“But that’s not what I was talking about,” she finished her thought, her words blending together lazily, the effects of the champagne making themselves known. 

“Then what are you talking about?”

“My new club,” she said, rolling her eyes as if he should be able to read her mind. “Do you want to go over and look at it?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?” Henry couldn’t think of a reason not to, so Frenchy drove them over to Albert Street.

“I’m impressed,” he said as they got out of the car, taking in the three-story brick Romanesque Revival structure. “Reminds me of the Rialto on Collins St.”

“Wait until you see the inside,” she said with a giddy, champagne-infused smile, and led him through the creaky iron gate that was covered in vines. He followed her up the short walk, and since she was still a little wobbly, he let her lean on him as they ascended the steps. The grand front door was extra wide and made of solid oak, with brass fixtures and colorful stained glass lites on the sides and across the top. She slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open.

Dust hung in the air and a musty smell met his nose, and he squinted in the dim light. Dark carpeting that had seen better days covered creaking floor boards, dark-stained wooden moldings outlined every wall and doorway, and the walls were covered in a dark peeling paint that may have at one time been crimson. A tickle gathered in his nose and he sneezed. 

“I’m sorry, it isn’t the freshest air in here,” she said as he took out a handkerchief to cover his nose. “First thing tomorrow I’m opening the windows and airing this place out, but isn’t it wonderful?” she gushed.

“Definitely needs work,” he said. 

“Oh, of course, that goes without saying. Now, over here is where the doorman will stand,” she pointed to a spot near the front door, then tugged him by the arm to a parlor on the left. “And this is going to be my office and personal quarters. I’ll have the door permanently bolted shut here because there’s another door to the hall at the back. I’m not sure what I want to do with the parlor on the other side yet, but maybe a dressing room for the girls. There will be plants and statues along the walls to lead people to the stairs. Come on.” She tugged him toward the stairs and he followed her up, charmed by her running commentary.

“Now, you can see how large this parlor is over here,” she said, leading him into the room on the right. “This is going to be the main club room, filled with tables and a small stage at that end,” she pointed toward the back. “I think it might have been a grand master bedroom suite at one time, but the last tenant was a funeral director so this is where they held the viewings.”

“You’re not planning to tell your club members that, are you?” Henry asked. “That there used to be viewings in here?”

“Heavens no,” she said. “Although Frank said there’s a good chance the place is haunted. My last club was, too,” she shrugged, then her face suddenly changed. “Oh, no!”

“What is it?”

“Our ghost, Mrs. Peabody! Where will she go now that the Black Dahlia is gone?” Her eyes were wide and she looked truly worried, as if the ghost was a friend she wanted to help. Henry furrowed his brow and squinted at her for a moment, wondering which one of them had drunk more champagne, and why the hell she was asking him such a confusing question. The urgency in her voice, however, told him she needed some sort of answer.

“Maybe,” he mused, “maybe she’ll haunt the next structure they erect on the site?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Venus relaxed and even seemed cheered. “That would be good. Yes that makes sense.” 

Henry shook his head at her and chuckled under his breath, then looked around the room again. “Well, this room certainly looks like the perfect size for what you’re talking about,” he said, redirecting her, thankful his quick thinking had done the trick for now. If nothing else, he’d learned that champagne made her giddy and girly, a development he wasn’t entirely opposed to.

“Yes, there will be screens on the sides,” she pointed toward the back. “And the dancers will come in through that door back there right onto the stage. Then over here,” she practically skipped across the hall to a smaller room. “This room will be the bar. I’ll have the bar itself over here with stools, a few tables here, and along that wall I’ll have some curtained booths for privacy. I may even put a few curtained booths out in the hall between the bar and the club room.”

Henry had been inside a few of the high-end brothels that masqueraded as ‘gentlemen’s clubs’, and he could picture everything she was describing. He envisioned her walking proudly through the rooms, greeting guests and ensuring they were having a good time. And with the state of the building, he could also picture her burning through that three-thousand pounds very quickly. 

“Now, up on the third floor,” she was saying, “are six small rooms and I haven’t decided exactly how I want to use them. I may offer lodging to employees if they are in need, or they may be used for even more privacy than is offered by the booths in the bar. I’ll have to see what kind of talent Melbourne has to offer.”

“Well, they’ll have a hell of a time keeping up with you and your talents,” he said, coming to stand close to her. 

“Is that flattery, Henry Stokes?” she cooed, fingering his lapels, and fluttering her eyelashes. 

“Well-deserved, from what I hear,” he said, his insides warming as her perfume reached his nose, blocking out the musty aromas of the old building.

“And what do you hear?” she tilted her head and looked up at him with curiosity, her blonde curls bouncing like wildflowers in a sunny meadow. 

“I hear that you had the most successful club in Sydney before that raid and the fire. That doesn’t come without hard work and considerable talent.”

“Well, ‘most successful’ is an opinion in this business,” she allowed, her flirtations cooling at his mention of her former establishment. “But yes, there was a lot of hard work involved. And it’ll take a lot of hard work to get this place up and running, long before it will come close to being successful. If I have a talent for anything, it’s finding myself in positions that require hard work,” she said with a smirk and a roll of her eyes. 

“I can’t wait to see what you do with this place, Venus,” he said. “Not just because I’ll have a financial stake, but because I want to see what your ambition is capable of.”

She studied his eyes for a moment before responding. “You’re a rare thing, Henry Stokes,” she mused.

“How’s that?”

“You’re not afraid of a woman with ambition,” she said, taking another half step forward so their bodies were touching. 

“No,” he replied, his pulse thrumming in his ears in response to her proximity. “I appreciate strength and ambition wherever I see it.” His hands automatically found her hips and held her against him.

“You love a challenge, too, don’t you,” her voice was low and throaty, and his groin twitched. 

“Are you planning to be a challenge, Venus?” he rumbled in return. 

“Always,” she replied, with a sly upturn of her lips. That did it for Henry - his desirous growl was muffled by the heated kiss he planted on her mouth. They clutched each other in the murky afternoon light of the second floor hall, motes of dust swirling around them like miniature stars through the bands of late afternoon sun slanting through the windows. The champagne buzz mixed with the adrenaline filling his bloodstream was a potent cocktail, and he held on tight while his head spun and nothing else mattered.   
+++

Henry had Frenchy drop her back at the Windsor after leaving Albert Street. He said he was meeting someone for a business dinner at his club, but he invited her back for the following night. 

“You’ll understand if I don’t get out and walk you to the door,” he said.

“I do,” she replied and squeezed his hand. When they reached the drop-off area, Henry reached over and pulled her to him for a brief kiss. 

“See you tomorrow,” he said.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she smiled. Frenchy opened the door and helped her out and she walked quickly into the hotel. The champagne buzz had worn off, but the buzz from Henry’s attentions was still dancing along her nerve endings. 

“Ah, Miss Colesmith,” the concierge said as she entered. “Welcome back; how was your afternoon?”

“Just fine Pierre,” she smiled. “How about yours?”

“Busy,” he nodded. “There’s been a delivery for you.”

“A delivery?” she asked, suddenly wary. She’d intentionally used her real name on the hotel reservation in case anyone from Sydney had tried to track down “Venus DeRosier” before she was settled and safe in her club. She hadn’t been “Bronwyn Colesmith” since she was fourteen. 

“Well, we believe it’s for you,” Pierre explained. “The delivery boy came around mid-day, but we didn’t have the name he gave us in the guest register. He came back this afternoon with a lovely description of you, including, in fact, that lovely pin on your coat.”

“Do you know who it’s from?” she asked, fingering the brooch, a distinctive marcasite creation in the shape of a black dahlia. It had been a gift from her girls for Christmas a few years back and she’d worn it so often it became her trademark piece, and everyone she was close to in Sydney knew about it. 

“No, Miss, but I’ll let the bellhop know and have him bring it up to your room right away.” Pierre’s conspiratorial tone and cheeky smirk led her to believe the delivery was a gift, but she couldn’t imagine who would send her a gift. 

She thanked Pierre and went up to her room and waited nervously by the window for the bellhop to knock. When she opened the door, all she saw was flowers. 

“Miss Colesmith?” said a young man behind a bouquet that covered his chest and shoulders and rose several inches above his jaunty cap.

“Come in,” she said as the bellhop carefully carried in the enormous arrangement and placed it on a table. She handed him a shilling from her purse and he quickly ducked out. 

“What in the world,” she breathed as she stood in front of the explosion of color. There were at least two dozen roses of different shades, plus gladiolus, stephanotis, snap dragons, lilies, and, of course, dahlias. She plucked the card out of the center of the arrangement and opened the envelope with shaky fingers. 

“Best of luck for our new venture, Henry.”

She sat down slowly, staring at the flowers, her heart swirling with a mix of shock and trepidation. A few kisses here and there was one thing, but she couldn’t be romantically involved with another man so soon, and flowers meant romance, especially for a man like Henry. Like his personal desk phone number, she was certain he didn’t go around sending flowers to just any of his business partners. 

Tears filled her eyes and she tried to blink them away, but they slipped down her cheeks anyway. Images of her once dear Joey filled her mind, as well as the sad deterioration of their relationship and the destructive end that had swept away everything she’d worked for. Henry wasn’t Joey, not by a long shot. He was older, wiser, saner, and far more capable of ruining her for good if something went wrong, though she believed he never would.

Henry. He was exactly the kind of man she could see herself with for the rest of her life. He was confident, successful and appreciative of a woman like herself who had worked hard to get where she was, and he wasn’t afraid of letting her see how taken he was by her. She was sure he’d never want anyone to know that he could actually be sweet, or that he was willing to let her choose him on her own terms, instead of simply taking possession of her. Not that she’d let him do that, of course. No, his open-handed adoration of her drew her in, and she could easily become intoxicated by a lover like that.

Too easily. She had only known him for a few days, but despite her best intentions and the voices of reason in her head, her growing attachment to him was hard to deny. The last thing she wanted was for history to repeat itself. As much as it would hurt, she would have to put an end to their personal dealings, and keep it strictly business. Ideally, she’d cut him off completely, but she really needed the money and the professional support Henry was offering, and she would find a way to repay his investment on strictly financial terms. She’d call him tomorrow to find out if dinner was business or pleasure, and decline if not strictly business. It would be better that way.

In the meantime, she dried her tears and freshened up, put on a revealing black dress, and took herself down to the bar as she’d done every other night since she’d arrived at the Windsor a month ago. She would distract herself from Henry by keeping her interpersonal skills well-honed with the gents who came into the hotel bar for a drink after work. If she wanted to call it “researching potential clientele”, to keep her mind on business, then so be it. At least she could count on one of them buying her dinner.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venus' recent past is revealed, and even Henry is shocked.  
> ++++

Venus was up early, excited to get to work. She dressed simply and casually, ate a hearty breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and took a tram to Albert Street. Standing on the sidewalk, her hand on the front gate - HER front gate - she looked up in satisfaction and anticipation. While she was still devastated by the loss of the Black Dahlia, it hadn’t been her vision. Madam Juno had chosen the decor and style of the club, and Venus had seen little need to spend money changing it. 

Now she had the opportunity to start from scratch, create her own vision, make every inch of the place her own, and it filled her with confidence and power. She would resurrect herself, like a phoenix, from the ashes of her former life, and make it even better than before. 

“Club Phoenix,” she whispered, looking up at the building. “Yes, that will do nicely.” She smiled and hurried inside to get started. 

+++

“What did you say?” Henry Stokes sat up straight, stunned.

“I said, she torched her own place,” said Morris Turner, a Sydney-based private detective and long-time informant of Henry’s.

“How can you be sure, Mo?” Henry asked.

“I talked to two of the girls that used to work for her,” Mo said. “One of them told me that after the raid, Madam DeRosier made all of them leave, take all their things and vacate. She told them she was going to have all the rooms repainted at once and needed everyone out. This one girl was the last to leave and when she went out the back door to toss some of her trash away in the bin, she saw four cans of petrol on the porch, halfway hidden under some rags. 

“Then this other girl I talked to, said that a few days before they were told to leave, she saw the Madam giving a tip to a delivery man, and when she dumped her change purse into her hand there was a single cufflink, just like the one found by the back door where the fire started. The cufflink belonged to the detective Madam DeRosier had been involved with. A guy named Joe Holton.”

“So she torched her own business and framed a cop for it?” Henry was as impressed as he was shocked. 

“That’s the way it looks, mate.”

Damn. “Why?”

“The girls say she tried to cut ties with Holton, but he wouldn’t let her, and they would often hear them yelling in her private quarters in the weeks leading up to the fire. Apparently he was a manipulative dick, but the girls say they had once been quite happy together. Something must have changed because one night he was cold-clocked on the street, and a black silk dahlia was left in his hand. Scuttlebut at the police station was he ordered the raid to retaliate. One of the girls said that during the raid Holton assaulted the madam and beat her up. Within a week, the Black Dahlia was nothing but a charred black heap.”

“Shit,” Henry breathed into the phone, the thought of anyone hurting Venus was like a kick in the gut.

“The detectives on the case found four empty petrol cans in Holton’s backyard trash, and a receipt for them in his coat pocket. The attendant at the petrol station said a man in a long coat and bowler - like Holton wore - bought the cans, but said Holton was not the same bloke. Holton was charged for the arson anyway, then bailed out and suspended pending trial. Word on the street is that no juror in Sydney will convict him if he burned down a house of ill repute.”

“The perfect crime,” Henry said, shaking his head. 

“Anyway, mate, that’s all I know so far,” Mo said. “Do you want me to dig up any more?”

“No, that’s plenty for now,” Henry said. “I’ll wire you your fee in a day or two. And I’ll be paying you extra to not tell another soul what you’ve told me. Don’t make me waste my money.”

“Understood, Mr. Stokes.” 

They said their goodbyes and Henry let the phone’s handset slip back into the cradle and stroked his beard. The beautiful Venus DeRosier may have been a woman scorned, but she had found her revenge in a way that both awed and concerned him. He couldn’t imagine making the decision to burn down his own business, much less frame a cop for it. Venus must have felt the circumstances were extremely dire in order to destroy her livelihood, and despite the desperate situation Mo had described, there had to be more. At this point, however, Venus would be the only one who knew how dire it had really been, and he doubted it would be something she’d ever tell him.

Either way, her actions had been ruthless and he was even more convinced he was right to have her on his side, as his business partner, and more. He hadn’t heard anything from her since he’d dropped her off yesterday, and he was at least expecting a response to the flowers. Maybe the flowers had been too much, or too soon. He would take measure of that at dinner tonight.

++++

Venus was sitting halfway up the grand stairs finishing the lunch she’d brought from the Windsor. She brushed ineffectively at the smudges of dirt and grime on the old clothes she’d bought at a second-hand store and changed into before she started working. Sunlight was streaming through the open windows, a fresh breeze was blowing, and a pile of trash was growing in the backyard, and she sighed happily at the extent of her work so far. The old building was beautiful, with artistically carved moldings, graceful arched doorways, and lovely brass hardware, informing her vision. 

The front gate creaked, the sound lifting through the open front door, and she went down the stairs to see who might be visiting on her first day. A smartly dressed young woman with titian hair was coming up the walk and Venus stood in the doorway to greet her.

“Hello, how may I help you?” Venus asked. The young woman smiled and ascended the stairs, her hand outstretched. 

“Hello,” she said, “I’m Gemma Smith, I work next door at the law office.” 

“Nice to meet you, Miss Smith,” Venus said, shaking hands with her but still wary of giving out her full name just yet. “It’s nice of you to stop by. Do come in.” She stepped aside for Gemma to enter the front hall.

“Wow,” Gemma said, turning around to look at the space. “This place is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” Venus allowed, waiting for Gemma to state her real purpose for stopping by.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Gemma said. “I shouldn’t gawk, but I just love these old buildings. Anyway, the window next to my desk is right there,” she pointed to the side and Venus could see the open office window through the open window in the room that would soon be her bedroom. “I’ve seen you come and go a couple times this week, and I was excited that someone might be moving in here.”

“I see,” Venus said. “Has this place been vacant for long?”

“As long as I’ve worked for Mr. Prentis next door. At least two years.”

“That makes sense, considering the evidence of local fauna that took up residence while it was empty of human habitation,” Venus commented. Gemma made a face and an “ew” sound.

“Will you be living here?” Gemma asked.

“Eventually, yes. Will take a good amount of work before that happens, though.”

“Just yourself?”

“Possibly some boarders in the upper bedrooms,” Venus allowed. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Gemma said. “There are always people looking for places to board. Will you be doing all the cleanup work yourself?”

“Oh, no. I’ll be hiring people for most of that. I just wanted to get started right away, find out what this place is all about, what secrets she holds.”

“That’s an exciting way of looking at it.”

“I think so,” Venus smiled. She’d already found a few disguised cupboards and an attic entrance hidden in an upstairs closet - spaces that would suit her needs nicely. 

“Would you ever like company for lunch?” Gemma asked. “I’m on my lunch break now and usually take a short walk after I eat, but I’d be keen to enjoy some female company in the midst of working with men all day.”

“That would be lovely, Miss Smith,” Venus nodded, sensing a kindred spirit. 

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Miss… I don’t think I caught your name,” Gemma said, giving Venus a quizzical look. 

“Venus,” she said. “Just Venus for now.”

“All right then, Venus,” Gemma nodded. “And please call me Gemma.”

Venus said she would and Gemma stepped toward the door. “Oh, and I heard singing earlier - was that you?”

“Oh, ah, yes, I suppose that was,” she smiled, slightly embarrassed.

“It was lovely. Don’t stop on my account,” Gemma said, then excused herself to get back to work. Venus smiled as she watched her neighbor head back down the walk when something occurred to her. 

“Gemma,” she called and the young woman turned. “Do you happen to have a phone I can use? My line here is not set up yet.”

“Of course,” Gemma replied and Venus said she’d be right over. 

++++

“Stokes here,” Henry answered the phone on the second ring, shuffling some paperwork around on his desk.

“Henry, how are you today?”

“Venus,” he smiled and leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. “I was hoping you might call.”

“Then I’m glad I did,” she replied. “I’m over at Albert Street today and the phone line isn’t set up yet, so I’m calling from the lawyer’s office next door.”

“Ah, so I suppose you’ll be speaking in code?” he teased.

“Only if it’s a full moon,” she responded, with a bit of cheek in her tone. “But first of all, I want to thank you for the delivery yesterday. It was unexpected and very thoughtful.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” he replied. 

“Which leads me to my second thought,” she said, her tone becoming serious. “What is the dress code for this evening, something businesslike, perhaps?”

“Well, I suppose that’s up to you,” Henry said. “I’d welcome business or pleasure.”

“I see,” she mused. “The former will ensure my attendance, but I would have to decline if only the latter.”

Henry dropped his feet and leaned forward on his desk. “Venus, I don’t understand,” he said, an invisible fist landing a blow to his midsection. Damnit, the flowers had been too much.

“Yes, we do have some business to discuss,” she was saying. “What time?”

“Six o’clock,” he said reflexively. “Venus, what’s wrong?”

“Good, I look forward to working out those details, then. See you this evening.”

“Venus,” he said, surprised at how desperate his voice sounded. “Venus?” But the line had gone dead. “Damnit!” he cursed as he slammed down the phone then rubbed his face with his hands. He felt like a fool, and worse - a sucker - for allowing himself to fall so easily for her. Now that he’d learned how ruthless she could be, he was glad he hadn’t signed the money over to her yet - she could have taken him for a lot more than a bouquet of flowers. 

“Everything alright, boss?” Frenchy said, ducking between the curtains at the sound of cursing, then stepped back with his hands up when Henry glowered at him.

“Everything’s fucking fine,” Henry growled. 

“If you say so, boss,” Frenchy replied and ducked back out. 

Henry got up and paced his office, anger burning through his nerve endings. How could he have been so fucking daft. She’d played him like a fiddle, using his attraction to her against him, building him up and then slamming him down. Venus DeRosier had shaken his world in a way no woman ever had - turning his every expectation upside down in less than a week - and the fact that he had been unprepared for any of it infuriated him.

He wasn’t angry at her so much as he was furious with himself for not being more cautious, for making promises, and for letting her past his defenses. It wasn’t her fault she shone like the sun and glittered like the stars, or that every cell in his body had desired her. No, Henry Stokes only had himself to blame for this mistake, and it wasn’t one he’d be making again.

“Frenchy!” he called. The adrenaline in his bloodstream had nowhere to go, so he was going to give it somewhere. 

“Yes, boss?” Frenchy ducked cautiously back through the curtains again.

“Bring the car around and gather up a few crates of empty bottles and load them up,” he said grabbing his shotgun and two cases of shells from his gun cabinet. “We’re going bush for the afternoon.”

“Bush, sir?” Frenchy said, eyeing the rifle. 

“Sometimes you just need to blow things to bits,” Henry announced, peeling off his finely tailored suit jacket and waistcoat and swapping them out for a shooting jacket that was hanging in his gun cabinet.

“Yes, boss,” Frenchy said, hustling out to follow orders. 

+++ 

Henry paced, and smoked, while he waited for Frenchy to bring Venus over from the Windsor. Destroying several dozen bottles with his shotgun had been the perfect way to blow off steam, and not just the steam from his anger. Since he’d met Venus, he’d laid awake every night thinking about her, and after kissing her, his body had started to crave hers. As easily as he could have taken matters into his own hand, he saw it as a weakness, and the inefficient water heater in his quarters above the casino ensured a chilly shower each morning that helped him survive each day. Going shooting this afternoon had provided a temporary release and he was much calmer now. 

He’d bathed and dressed in his best suit, finding that there was still a spark of hope that he wouldn’t lose Venus altogether, and if he had to admire her from afar as only a business partner, he would do it, just to stay within her aura. Once he’d released the adrenaline from his system, his thoughts cleared. Maybe she wasn’t pushing him away completely, but the pressure of his desire was still too much too soon. If she had really wanted to scam him, she would have secured that £3000 first, so, logically, it didn’t make sense for her to cast him aside just yet. It was that thought which kept the spark of hope alive, and he would tread slowly and more carefully tonight.

He opened the door for her when the car pulled up, helped her out and offered her his elbow. “Good evening, Madam,” he said, with a small smile.

“Good evening, sir,” she replied with a nod, her face impassive. She took his arm and let him lead her into the building and through to the bar. 

“May I take your wrap?” he asked and she nodded, letting the sable fur fall off her shoulders to reveal a filmy, layered sheath in aqua, teal, and deep blue-green, with silver beaded trim. He swallowed hard and tried not to show his reaction. She didn’t pose this time, just waited for him to hand her fur to Frenchy then hand her up onto one of the stools. 

“Martini?” he asked. 

“Yes, please,” she said and Woody nodded and fixed their drinks. 

“How was your day?” he asked, watching her eyes. 

“Tiring,” she replied. “But excellent.” Her smile was genuine.

“You said you were already working on your place?” he asked and handed her the martini Woody had slid toward them.

“Yes, I was there from about ten until three, opening windows, taking out trash, and generally exploring,” she recounted, her face brightening. “But it was so satisfying.”

“I can imagine so,” he nodded, trying to keep the conversation light. “Find anything interesting?”

“A couple hidden cabinets, a handful of keys in a drawer, and an empty casket propped up in a closet,” she made a face.

“That must have been an unpleasant surprise. Any sign of a ghost?” he asked, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Not today,” she replied. “But I’m going to have to add ‘exterminator’ to the list of workmen I’ll need, and at least one cat who’s a good mouser.”

“I’m sure we can make both of those happen,” he said.

“Oh, and I have a name!” she said, her eyes suddenly sparkling.

“Oh, good, what is it?”

“Club Phoenix,” she smiled. “Rising from the ashes of the Black Dahlia.”

“To Club Phoenix, then,” Henry held out his glass.

“Hear, hear,” she replied and tapped her glass to his. She was pleasant and polite, but the flirting and teasing tone were nowhere to be seen. 

“Dinner is served,” Chef John announced and Venus took Henry’s arm to be led to the dining area. 

Conversation at the table was amiable, with Henry letting Venus do most of the talking. He asked her questions about Club Phoenix and her vision for it, and he had no doubt she would achieve every one of her ambitious plans. She told him about meeting Gemma from the lawyer’s office next door and how she planned to become good neighbors with Mr. Prentis and his staff, reasoning that it couldn’t be a bad thing to have a friendly lawyer in the neighborhood. 

“Venus,” he began carefully after a lull in their conversation. “I know you told me what happened to the Black Dahlia, but I can’t help feeling like there’s more to the story.”

“Henry Stokes,” she reacted to his query with a subtle indignation in her voice. “You mean to tell me a man as important and connected as you hasn’t already done your research on me and my former business?”

He held out his hands in surrender. “Guilty as charged. But I would like to hear your side of things.”

“Why?”

“Trust.”

“You don’t trust me, Henry?”

“I trust you, but more importantly, I want you to trust me. If I’m going to be investing in your business, I need to know everything you’ve done, everything that’s been done to you, everything you’re capable of, and everything you’re afraid of. That way, I can vigorously protect my investment and my business partner.”

“And will you be telling me those things about yourself?” she asked, chin lifted in defiance.

“We’ll see. But, right now I’m holding all the cards, remember?” He hated to use this tactic on her, but she wanted business, so this was business, Henry Stokes style.

“I see,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him, contemplating. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve heard, and I’ll tell you if it’s true or not.”

“All right, then,” he leaned back in his seat and wiped his lips. “What I’ve heard is that you were involved with a police detective, and when the relationship went sour, he ordered the raid in retaliation. Not long after that was the suspicious fire, and the detective was charged with arson, but he’ll never go to jail for it because no jury would convict him for wiping out a brothel. But, my sources give me reason to believe that the detective was framed, making the arson of the Black Dahlia a near perfect crime.”

“Sounds like you’ve been reading too many penny dreadfuls,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, eyes glancing away. 

“How accurate is it?”

“Does it matter?” she said, her voice rising in self-defense. “You’re going to think the worst of me anyway with that story floating around in your head.”

“Then tell me the truth,” he challenged. 

“You know enough,” she retorted, defensiveness and anger flashing in her eyes.

“Do I?” he said leaning forward and pulling her closer to him by the arm, lowering his voice to a soft growl. “You burned down your own business and framed a fucking cop for it, and I am so fucking impressed and frankly scared shitless of you, which is why I don’t want to be anywhere else but on your good side. Which is why I want you to trust me.” 

The intensity of the moment almost did him in. The heat rising between them released waves of her perfume off her skin, and her startled breath in his face washed over him like warm water. He was seconds from clutching her into a deep, mind-numbing kiss. 

“Henry,” she exhaled, her defenses melting some from their closeness. She gently lifted his hand from her arm and took both his hands in hers. “I trust you, I do, but…” she trailed off.

“But what?”

She hesitated, then hung her head before answering. “Your sources are right, I did do what you said, but it scared the hell out of me, too,” she gripped his hands and looked at him, her eyes now pleading with him to understand. “What I did had nothing to do with business: it was all emotion and I’d been holding it in for too long. I had no idea I was capable of such a horrible thing, and I don’t want to ever go that far again. You want me to trust you, but I don’t completely trust myself. And I don’t want to hurt you, Henry. I just need more time.”

“Venus,” he said softly, standing up and pulling her up into his embrace. She leaned against him, her cheek on his chest, her breathing ragged as she fought to not cry. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to dredge it all up. I apologize.”

“It’s all right,” she sniffed, and he handed her his handkerchief and she dabbed her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve fully grieved everything I lost. I just had to get out of town, and then once I was here I needed to get started again to avoid thinking about it. Maybe I shouldn’t rush into the new club so soon.”

“You take all the time you need,” he said. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you get Club Phoenix off the ground. And when you’re ready to take the next step with me, personally, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, Henry,” she said. “And the flowers were absolutely beautiful.”  
+++


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER RATED "E"  
> Venus meets a Victoria Police Force detective, Jack shares a pint with a mate, and Henry & Venus make a spontaneous decision.   
> +++

Venus was upstairs on the third floor of Club Phoenix, scrubbing a bathroom floor, while half a dozen men busily hammered and sawed in various parts of the building. After two weeks of work, her personal quarters were almost finished, and she was looking forward to moving in soon. Henry had sold his building at the docks and transferred the funds to their shared club account, and they’d signed a detailed partnership agreement that benefitted them both. They had continued to see each other on friendly, business terms, and while subtle desire was a constant flicker in Henry’s eyes, she appreciated his restraint. 

“Madam Venus?” one of the carpenters said, appearing at the doorway to the bathroom.

“Yes, Freddy?” she sat back on her haunches and wiped her forehead with an old kerchief.

“There’s a man downstairs that wants to meet you. Looks like a cop.”

“How can you tell?”

“I just can,” Freddy shrugged. 

“Tell him I’ll be right down,” she said and Freddy nodded and left. She stood and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and rolled her eyes at what a mess she was. Definitely not fit to greet visitors, but at least it was for honest reasons. She wiped the rest of the sweat off her face and neck, and re-did the scarf that was holding her hair back into a more jaunty, less functional style. Not much she could do about the gray overalls and heavy boots, but her blonde curls seemed to distract most men from her attire.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she said when she reached the bottom of the sairs. “How may I help you?” The man was definitely a cop - Venus could spot one from a mile away. He was also rakishly handsome, despite the way his jaw dropped when he sighted her, and he was well-dressed in a three-piece suit and long topcoat, and his hands worried the brim of a dark fedora. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, collecting himself before speaking.

“Detective Inspector Flynn, from City Central,” he said, finding his voice and holding out his hand to shake. “How do you do?”

“You’ll forgive my appearance, Inspector Flynn,” she said, shaking hands. “I’ve been scrubbing floors all day. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Albert Street is in my jurisdiction, ma’am, and I like to meet new residents and business owners - just to say hello and welcome them to the neighborhood, and let folks know they can call me if need be.” He reached in his suit pocket and took out his credentials, slipping out a calling card and handing it to her.

“Detective Inspector Michael Flynn,” Venus read aloud, scanned him up and down then fanned herself with the card. “How thoughtful.” She watched his face as he tried to remain stoic, but his wide eyes and bobbing Adam’s apple revealed his visceral response to her, even in her grubby state. “I’m Venus DeRosier,” she said, deciding he was a decent fellow for now. “I moved here from Sydney not too long ago. It’s nice to know the police are as welcoming as everyone else has been so far.”

“First impressions are everything,” he commented with a smile.

“Indeed,” she nodded, silently noting the irony, considering her current appearance. 

“So, are you the owner of this property, Miss…. Mrs…. DeRosier?”

“Madam DeRosier will be fine, Inspector. And no, not yet, tenant for now.”

“Residential use, or commercial?”

“Both, eventually.”

“What type of business?”

Venus considered his question for a brief moment, but decided he’d find out anyway and it wouldn’t do to lie during her first interaction with the local constabulary. “Welcome to Club Phoenix,” she said, waving her hand around. “Melbourne’s newest, and finest, gentlemen’s club. Music, dancing, a well-stocked bar and lovely hostesses. For Melbourne’s most discriminating gentlemen… like yourself.” She looked him up and down again, fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

“Well,” Detective Flynn cleared his throat. “I am discriminating, but I don’t typically patronize that type of business.”

“Too bad,” she said with a small pout. “I offer special discounts to law enforcement: Ten percent off anything from the bar or the kitchen, ten percent off membership, and the first visit is always free.”

“I appreciate it, but I’ll be lifting my pints at the local pub. Just be sure to follow our local laws against illegal activities and substances, and I’ll never have to darken your door again.”

“Now that would be a terrible shame, Inspector Flynn,” she cooed, fanning herself with the card again and taking a step closer. “Being a single woman who’s new in town, it is most helpful to know the local police are looking out for my well-being.”

“That’s our job, Madam," he said, clearing his throat again and taking half a step back as she eased closer to him. "Anything that good citizens such as yourself can do to assist in that effort is much appreciated.”

“I will do my best, then, Inspector,” she replied. “Thank you for coming by.”

“Good day to you then, Madam DeRosier,” he said with a bow of his head. 

“Inspector Flynn,” she acknowledged. He donned his fedora and she watched from the door as he strode up the walk, out the gate, and down the street. She didn’t for a moment believe his story about greeting new neighbors; someone must have tipped him off about the type of business she was planning to open here. She needed to know more about the relationship between the Victoria Police Force and Melbourne’s brothels. 

++++

Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of Melbourne’s City South police station, ambled into the pub after work and looked around. Spotting his mate, Detective Inspector Michael Flynn of City Central’s Vice unit, at the bar, Jack strode over and took a seat and shared a rough hand-shake and back-slap greeting with his old Academy classmate. They were two of the few that survived the purge after the Police Strike of ‘23, as well as veterans of the Great War, though in different battalions. They tried to get together for a pint once a month, but it had been two months since the last time. 

“Nice of you to show up, mate,” Flynn joked after Jack ordered his beer. “I was beginning to think I was gonna get stood up.”

“Phryne’s out of town and no one was murdered today, so I couldn’t find a better offer,” Jack retorted. “What’s going on at Central these days?”

“Wait’ll you hear this,” Mick began, taking a swig. “So my sources told me there’s a new gentlemen’s club going in on Albert Street, so I went round there today to check it out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Club Phoenix, it’s gonna be called and they were doing a lot of renovations, so it won’t be open for a little while, but I met the new proprietor,” Mick said with a wag of his eyebrows. “Madam Venus DeRosier, just moved here from Sydney.”

“Venus, huh?”

“God, Jack, she’s gorgeous,” Mick sighed. “She was wearing work clothes and boots, her hair was a mess and she’d been scrubbing floors, but even through all that she was drop dead gorgeous.”

“She’s blonde, isn’t she,” Jack said. It wasn’t a question; Jack knew his mate’s preference for blondes.

“Curly blonde hair cut short,” Mick sighed again. “I think if I saw her dressed up, I’d have a heart attack. Or ask her to marry me, one or the other.”

“How many beers have you had already?” Jack eyed his friend sideways.

“Not enough,” Mick replied. “I need to drink heavily so I can get some sleep tonight. Otherwise I won’t sleep a wink thinking about her.”

Jack laughed and shook his head. Mick was often dramatic about women, falling for many, marrying none. 

“You know, I almost want her to get into something more serious than sly grog,” Mick was saying. “Maybe a little cocaine, you know? Just to have the opportunity to raid her place and see her again.”

“If you start talking about handcuffing her, I’m out of here,” Jack quipped, and Mick laughed.

“You know, she seemed nice enough,” Mick went on, his voice turning serious. “Maybe I could draw her over to the law-abiding side of the city. Help her mend her ways.”

“Mick, you’re not her savior, alright?” Jack cautioned. He’d seen Mick fall for a few of the women he’d arrested, and it never ended well. “And it’s downright dangerous to get involved with a madam. You don’t know who else she may be involved with. Heaven forbid she’s pals with Stokes - that guy’s been looking for an opportunity to take out Inspector Spencer and the entire City South Vice unit for a year since that raid on his warehouse. Don’t think for a moment he wouldn’t include you in that vendetta, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Mick nodded ruefully. “But she’s so beautiful, Jack. I wish I could find a law-abiding woman who looked like that. I’d have to retire cuz I’d never want to leave the house!”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Just do your research, mate. Know who you’re dealing with.” Mick promised he would and clinked his mug to Jack’s in acknowledgement.

+++

“Detective Inspector Michael Flynn with City Central,” Venus said, taking his card out of her purse and handing it to Henry. “Know him?” She took her now-usual place in one of the visitors chairs in Henry’s office and propped her feet on the desk just like he did. It had begun as a joke one night when they’d had too much whiskey, and now it was her common practice - when she wasn’t sitting on his desk, right next to him, tempting him with her long slim legs, silk-stockinged knees and pretty ankles. It all depended on her mood, and Henry had given up trying to gauge which mood she’d be in on any given day, or at any given moment. He simply accepted her as she was, thankful she was still coming ‘round. Today her skirt was knee-length when she was standing, but with her feet on his desk, her hem slid up exposing quite a few inches of her lovely thighs and Henry’s gut lurched. 

“I’ve heard of him,” he said, walking around behind his desk to sit down across from her. “But haven’t had any direct contact with him, why?”

“He stopped by the club this afternoon,” she said. “Just to introduce himself. Says he likes to welcome all the new neighbors in his precinct. I didn’t believe that for a minute.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Someone tipped him off, is what I’m saying,” she asserted. 

“You don’t think I did?” he asked, startled.

“No, of course not. But it could have been any one of the renovation crew, one of your men or even your real estate pal, Frank the Fish,” she said.

“Trout, Venus. His name is Trout.” 

“Whatever.”

“What about your lawyer neighbor, or your friend Madam Lyon?”

“The lawyers still think it’s going to be a boarding house. And Madam Lyon is not my friend, but yes, that’s a possibility, too.”

“What did you tell him?” Henry handed Flynn’s card back to her.

“Well, I wasn’t going to lie to him, so I told him my full name and that it would be a gentlemen's club. I figured he either already knew or he was going to find out anyway.”

“So why are you so cheesed off about it?”

“Because I wasn’t expecting to have the cops come sniffing around the place so soon,” her voice rose with frustration, then she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Especially one who took one look at me in my filthy work clothes and could barely keep it in his pants after that.”

“Well, can’t say as I blame him,” Henry commented wryly.

“Henry, I need to know more about the relationship between the clubs and the police in Melbourne,” she said, dropping her feet and leaning forward. “What’s the history there and what kind of treatment can I expect?”

“That’s not really my area of expertise,” he said. “Why don’t you call Madam Lyon. I heard her club was involved with a murder last year that eventually resulted in the resignation of Chief Commissioner Hall and the arrest of his replacement, Deputy Commissioner Sanderson. It was a pretty big scandal from what I recall.”

“Well, shit,” she said. “That’s a big deal. Madam Lyon was part of that?”

“One of her girls was murdered, and that kicked off the investigation. I can’t remember all the details.”

“Was Inspector Flynn part of that, too?” she asked, taking the card back from Henry.

“No, it was City South - wait a minute,” he cut himself off as the memory surfaced. He unlocked his desk, dug in one of the drawers and pulled out the copy of the Argus he’d saved from a few weeks ago. He flipped pages until he found the right one, folded it back and handed it across the desk to Venus. “These two,” he said, pointing to Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson. “They were the ones that broke the case, and if I recall, Sanderson was Robinson’s former father-in-law.”

Venus looked at the photo and squinted a bit. “Henry?” she asked and looked up at him. He knew what she was asking and he handed her the loupe. She held it over the photo and she inhaled sharply, her eyes wide as saucers when she looked back up at him. 

“Spooky, isn’t it,” he said, and she nodded. 

“But how?”

“Just a quirk of fate, I suppose. I’ve had my lawyer discreetly check family records to see if there’s any way I’m related to him, but there’s nothing that he could find.”

“Well, don’t ever shave your beard, or I’d never be able to tell the difference between the two of you,” she teased.

“Let’s hope there’s never a need for that,” he said, subconsciously stroking his face. 

++++

Henry’s phone rang, and while he talked - or rather, argued - with one of his suppliers, she decided to read the story about Miss Phryne Fisher and Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. Their exploits in recent months were impressive to say the least, and they looked very good together. A senior police inspector and a socialite private detective made an interesting pair under any circumstances, but Robinson’s resemblance to Henry and their involvement in bringing down the top two brass in the entire Victoria Police Force made the whole thing deeply intriguing. Venus decided she needed to know more about both of them and what they were capable of, and she decided that Madam Lyon was the place to start. 

“Do you have the number for the Imperial Club?” she asked Henry when he hung up.

“I think so.” He took his address book out of the desk and paged through it. “Here,” he pointed to the page. 

“May I make a call?”

“Be my guest,” he said. “I need to talk to Woody about that grog delivery anyway.” He got up from his desk and disappeared through the curtains, headed for the bar. Venus took Henry’s seat and placed the call. 

“Imperial Club,” a male voice answered.

“Madam Lyon, please,” she said.

“Who’s callin’?”

“Tell her it’s Madam DeRosier.”

“One moment.” Venus waited until a familiar voice came on the line.

“Madam Lyon.”

“Brigid, it’s Venus,” she said. “How are you?”

“Well, well, I was wondering when you’d call,” Brigid said with a tone of disappointed condescension, but that was par for the course with Brigid and Venus ignored it.

“I sent you that note, thanking you for your recommendation,” Venus reminded her.

“I received it, and I’m glad it worked out so well. I hear you’ve started renovations at Albert Street.”

“I suppose it’s no secret now,” Venus said.

“News travels fast,” Brigid replied. 

“It does,” Venus acknowledged. “But there are some stories that need a more detailed retelling, and that’s why I’m calling you.”

“Go on.”

“I would like to invite you to dinner,” Venus said. “I’d like to know what kind of relationship the clubs in town have with the police, so I can be prepared,” Venus said, looking up as Henry walked back into the office. This time he took her spot on the corner of the desk and she grinned up at him. “I’m happy to meet you at the Windsor and charge it to my room there.”

“Or invite her here,” Henry whispered and she nodded.

“Or we could meet at a more private location, if you prefer.”

“And what location would that be?” Brigid replied.

“Stokes Enterprises in Richmond,” Venus said. 

“Tonight?” Henry whispered. “At seven.” He held up seven fingers.

“Well, that is an intriguing offer,” Brigid said. “When?”

“Are you available tonight? Seven o’clock?”

“In fact, I am,” Brigid said. 

“Wonderful,” Venus said. “Cocktails at six-thirty, if you choose.”

“I’ll be there,” Brigid said, exchanging goodbyes with Venus and hanging up.

“This should be a very enlightening dinner,” Venus said, leaning back and propping her feet up on the desk next to Henry’s arse.

“I don’t usually go for spontaneous,” Henry said. “But sometimes you have to take the opportunities that arise.”

Looking up at him, a spontaneous desire flared in her core but she ignored it, or she tried to. Henry’s hand fell softly on her ankle, sending sparks skittering up her leg and she inhaled sharply. His eyelids fell to half-mast and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a knowing smile. Her eyes were locked on his as he slowly slid his hand up her leg, past her knee, pushing her hem back, and letting gravity do the rest to expose the top of her stockings and several inches of her bare skin. His hand kept moving, her skin burning where he touched her. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Henry,” she gasped, frozen, wanting him, seeing the same desire on his face, and all her late night visions of him flashed before her eyes. 

He picked up her feet and moved them so they fell to the floor, then took her hand and pulled her out of the chair to stand between his knees. “It’s only five-thirty - we have an hour,” he whispered, sliding his hands over the roundness of her derriere, his face mere inches from hers. “Tell me what you want.”

“I can’t Henry,” she said, her voice ragged. “I’m not prepared.”

“There are other ways,” he said, collecting the hem of her dress in his fingers and sliding it up, reaching his hands under and smoothing them over the silk of her knickers. 

“God, Henry,” she sighed as he captured her mouth with his. They hadn’t kissed in two weeks, not since that afternoon at Albert Street, and they were both hungry for each other. She let her hand move to his lap, resting softly on his growing erection, and he moaned. One of his hands moved around to cup her cunt and she whimpered into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Venus, you’re so wet,” he groaned, moving his hand over her, and pressing in with his fingers, soaking her silk nickers with her own moisture. 

“It happens,” she panted, pulling back to give him a teasing smirk. 

“Come here,” he said, standing up and taking her hand. He led her through an alcove behind his office then opened a door that revealed a small sitting room lit only by the late afternoon sun streaming through a high window. There was a table and chairs in the middle, a sink and cabinets to one side, and an upholstered divan against a wall. Henry shut and locked the door behind them. 

When he turned back, she stepped into his arms and kissed him fiercely. He rucked up her hem, this time above her waist, and pulled her knickers down in one smooth move, then guided her back to the divan. 

“Venus, my goddess,” he murmured against her neck, kneeling in front of her as her bare skin connected with the upholstery, his hand moving to touch her wet curls. Her body tensed and she cried out softly. His fingers curled into her folds and stroked her tender skin, and when she moaned, he captured it with his mouth, exploring with his tongue. 

“Lie back,” he whispered against her lips and she did. He eased himself lower, kissing the insides of her thighs, and she panted in anticipation. When his mouth finally reached its target, her breath caught in her throat, and when he started stroking her with his tongue fireworks bloomed inside her eyelids. 

She gripped the edge of the cushions as Henry continued licking and sucking her into oblivion. He slid a pair of fingers inside her without warning, eliciting a quiet stream of curses as she began to rock her hips onto his hand. She looked down for a moment, just to watch him, his own murmurs muffled against her body as he feasted on her, enjoying it thoroughly, which sent a new shock of pleasure through her. She threw her head back and thrust against him a few more times until her mind went blank with ecstasy and her body shivered all over.

+++

God, she was beautiful, Henry thought, looking up at her from between her glorious creamy thighs, her face contorted, lungs gulping for air, gentle whines of release exiting her throat on every breath. He let the spasms of her body push his fingers out slowly, and he licked around her clit a few more times to hear her whimper again with each pass. And with each whimper, his cock twitched, aching for her in any way he could get her. 

He stood carefully, then quickly grabbed a flannel from the cabinet beside the sink, dampened it with cold water and wiped his face and hand. He took a clean corner of the flannel and gently wiped the skin on the inside of Venus’ thighs, as well as drying her damp, blonde curls, removing as much of her delicious juices as possible. He didn’t want anyone to know what he now knew, or to experience the aroma that was distinctly hers. 

“You alright?” he rumbled, picking up her knickers off the floor and handing them to her.

“Right as rain,” she sighed, sitting up straight and taking her lingerie from his fingers. “How about you?” she cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I could use a little help,” he admitted readily, taking her hand and placing it on his hardened length pressing against his trousers. 

“Let me see what I can do,” she smiled, working the buttons of his fly, pushing his trousers and shorts down, exposing him. The cool air on his skin was bracing, and then her warm fingers began to gently play over his cock and he groaned happily. When she wrapped her entire hand around him, gripping and pulling, his eyes rolled back in his head and he stumbled a little.

“Here,” she whispered and guided him down onto the divan and taking up a position between his thighs. He didn’t care if he was sitting or standing, as long as she didn’t stop. She leaned over and kissed the tip of his cock, licking up the drops that were beginning to form, and he held his breath to concentrate on the exquisite feel of her lips as she kissed the entire length of him. She worked her way slowly down, reaching the base and nuzzling her nose into his scrotum. When she turned to move back up, her hand cupped his balls and slowly rolled them gently in her fingers while she licked her way back up to his engorged crown. 

Slowly she opened her mouth for him, and he fought mightily not to thrust hard, letting the heat of her saliva enrobe him. Her mouth, tongue and hands moved in delirious rhythm, making his head spin. He didn’t want the feeling to end but the storm clouds were gathering deep inside, roiling toward release. 

“I’m so close,” he gasped, thinking she’d pull away, but instead she stroked him faster, sucking hard on the end of his cock in a way that sent shocks through his body. He gripped the edge of the divan and thrust into her mouth, once, twice, three times and… “Fuck!” he growled as thunder and lightning exploded inside him, sparking and rumbling for several moments afterward as she gently licked and kissed him until he floated down from the clouds.

A few moments later, he was all buttoned up again and leaning against the table in the middle of the room. She stood between his feet, her arms draped lazily over his shoulders and his hands rested softly on the small of her back. 

“You may not usually go for spontaneous, Henry Stokes, but when you do, it’s with all the enthusiasm of a herd of brumbies,” she said, tugging playfully on his lapels.

“Those brumbies are yours anytime you want them,” he replied. 

“I know,” she nodded, but there was a trace of hesitancy in her downcast gaze.

“But what?” he asked. 

“But I’m still not ready for anything serious,” she looked him in the eyes. “This is wonderful, once in a while, but I’m not ready to let myself fall for you yet.”

“And here I thought you already had,” he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“When I do, Henry, you’ll know it,” she said.

He sensed she was deflecting, maybe not wanting to admit what she was feeling, but he wasn’t going to push. “So until then?”

“Business partners of course, friends, and maybe a little covert cunnilingus in cramped quarters once in a while,” she said with a teasing smile. 

“As long as the brumbies get a bonzer blow-job round about the same time, we’ll be square,” he bantered back, his feeble attempt at an alliteration making her laugh. 

“What is this space anyway?” she asked looking around.

“Sometimes I need a more private place to meet with certain people like my lawyer, or to count money,” he explained. “The other side of that wall is my office, so sometimes I have a third party listening in on negotiations through a screen behind that painting,” he pointed behind her. “And sometimes, I just come in here and take a nap.”

“Handy,” she grinned. “I like the ‘private meeting place’ concept.”

“So do I,” he nodded and kissed her. They exited the room and Venus collected her purse to freshen up before Madam Lyon arrived. 

Henry plopped down at his desk, propped up his feet and lit a celebratory cigar. Prior to this evening, there were two aspects to his relationship with Venus - business and personal - and having secured the business side he was halfway to where he wanted to be. Tonight he’d discovered that there was an in-between aspect that he hadn’t considered - occasional sexual encounters - and by happenstance he’d managed to secure that aspect tonight, too, bringing him two-thirds of the way to where he wanted to be. He smiled with satisfaction: today was a good day to be Henry Stokes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's start with a bit of history - some you know, some you don't. Then Venus spins the wheel and ponders the future.   
> +++

“Well, well, Henry Stokes,” Madam Lyon said when Henry offered her his hand to exit the car. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes it has, Madam Lyon,” Henry said with a proper nod. “Yet you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Neither have you, still dressing like a carnival barker I see,” she said wryly, glancing at Henry's brocade waistcoat and gold watch chain, her friendly barb causing him to chuckle. “Venus, darling, good to see you again,” she added.

“Likewise, Brigid,” Venus smiled and they shared a polite handshake.

“Come inside and we can start off with a drink,” Henry said, offering Madam Lyon his elbow. She took it easily, but stole a glance at Venus. Venus just smiled; she knew what Henry wanted and it wasn’t Madam Lyon. 

Venus made a point of not standing next to Henry at the bar - she didn’t want to give Brigid any indication that she and Henry were anything more than business partners. She used the time to catch Brigid up on the renovation work at Club Phoenix, telling her about some of the unusual items she’d found tucked away in the old place. By the time dinner was served they were ready to hear what Madam Lyon had to say. 

“So, Brigid,” Venus said. “Henry was telling me about a huge scandal last year involving the Police Commissioner that all started with one of your employees being murdered, but he couldn’t recall all the details. Would you tell us what happened?”

“So that’s why you’ve invited me here,” Bridid said. “To dish the dirt on Hall and Sanderson.”

“Yes, please.” Venus flashed Brigid an eager smile, and Brigid couldn’t help but smile slyly in return. Good gossip was good gossip. 

“Well, it’s rather sordid, even from my perspective,” Brigid began, leaning forward. “It all started because I used to have the girls nick things from the members and patrons of my club - many of the madams do the same. Small things like cufflinks, business cards, pocket watches, a passport or two, and anything monogrammed. One of the items was the badge of Chief Commissioner Hall, which was quite the prize considering the crusade he was on to shut us down. It was like an insurance policy. His Deputy Commissioner, George Sanderson, was his purportedly-moral surrogate who executed Hall’s crusade, never setting foot in any of the clubs unless he was raiding it. 

“I kept all the stolen items in a locked wooden box in a big safe in my office. Then I came down with the influenza and was sick in bed for two weeks. I entrusted the day-to-day operation of the club, including the combination of the safe, to one of my girls named Lavinia. I always thought she was trustworthy, but at some point during my convalescence, she stole the box from the safe. Not long after that, she was found dead in Deputy Commissioner Sanderson’s study, and Sanderson had been drugged but was still alive.”

“So Sanderson killed her?”

“No my doorman did,” Brigid said, and both Venus and Henry said “what?” at the same time. Brigid chuckled through her nose. “Oh, it’s quite a convoluted tale. Lavinia had decided to get out of the hostess business, unbeknownst to me. She’d turned to the church, and her priest, Father Blackburn, was trying to use her to ‘save’ other girls. She’d told him about the box and they were going to go to the newspapers with it, which would have not only ruined my business, but the businesses of most of the other clubs in town, as well as brought down Commissioner Hall. But while I suppose Lavinia thought her motives were altruistic, she was ultimately swayed by money.

“She was lured to Sanderson’s house under the pretext that she would be paid handsomely for the box. But my doorman, Maurie, got there first, drugged Sanderson, killed Lavinia when she arrived and stole the box.”

“Very clever for a doorman,” Henry commented.

“That’s what led the police to believe there was someone else involved, someone who was able to set up such an elaborate scheme, and would be more interested in the power and influence that box held than trading it for money.”

“Who was that?”

“A wealthy businessman named Sidney Fletcher. He paid Maurie for the box before Maurie was killed trying to evade arrest.”

“I’ve heard of Fletcher,” Henry said. “He had warehouses down at the docks, but we never did business. Slimy bastard by all accounts. He went to jail for something else didn’t he?”

“International child slavery,” Madam Lyon replied. 

“Bloody hell,” Venus breathed in shock.

“He was buying orphan girls from the convent, all blonde and supposedly virginal, and transporting them overseas to whoever would buy.”

“I take back what I said about Fletcher being a slimy bastard,” Henry said. “Evil bastard is more like it.” Venus was glad to know that there were some crimes even the Crime King of Melbourne found detestable.

“One of those girls was murdered, which is how Fletcher was finally exposed,” Madam Lyon continued. “It wasn’t until then that the box was found and Hall, Sanderson and Fletcher all went to jail. During the trial, it came out that Sanderson wanted the Chief Commissioner job, and Fletcher promised to help him get it. Sanderson would turn a blind eye to Fletcher’s cargo, and in turn, Fletcher would use what was in the box to push Commissioner Hall into retirement. It was a huge scandal and was all over the papers for weeks.”

“And it was Inspector Robinson that cracked the case?” Venus asked.

“Yes, and he solved the murder of Lavinia, too. He and his unofficial partner, Miss Phryne Fisher, were involved in both cases.”

“They seem to be quite the pair,” Venus commented. “If a recent article in the Argus is to be believed.”

“Inspector Robinson is one of the few honest cops in the city. And I spent a good bit of time with Miss Fisher when she was trying to solve Lavinia’s murder. She went undercover in my club to do so. I’ve seen Miss Fisher do everything from climb the side of my building to the roof, wrestle my gun away from me, and perform a damn good fan dance. I’ve no doubt she’s just as capable as any police officer, and I have enormous amounts of respect for her. And for Inspector Robinson.”

“That’s high praise,” Henry remarked.

“I make it a point to trust no one, but Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson became exceptions to my rule. They solved the case and left me alone after that. But be assured that you won’t get away with anything around them.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Venus said.

“After that, things changed pretty much overnight at Russell Street,” Brigid continued. “Several other high-ranking cops resigned and the police crusade against the brothels has cooled considerably as none of the cops who frequent our clubs want it to be known that they do. That doesn’t mean that the religious crusade has slowed; the wowsers and do-gooders are just as fervent as ever, pushing for new laws to heavily restrict us or shut us down completely. But for now, it’s a good time to be in the business.”

“Do you know Detective Inspector Michael Flynn, out of City Central?” Venus asked her. “He stopped by today, ‘just to say hello’.”

“I do know him,” Brigid replied. “But he hasn’t been around in a while. I typically see Inspector Spencer out of City South sniffing around. He’ll give me a warning about sly grog, which I usually ignore, but we haven’t been raided since before Lavinia died.”

“Spencer raided one of my warehouses at the docks last year,” Henry said darkly, thinking aloud and slowly turning his steak knife in his fingers. “I had to close one of my more profitable locations, and I lost merchandise worth several thousand pounds. A couple of my men ended up in jail, and the rest ended up at Saint Vincent’s, along with a couple of his. I’m not anxious for a repeat of that night, but I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to respond.”

Venus and Brigid didn’t say anything right away, they just looked at Henry and then each other. Venus wasn’t sure what Henry might have in mind for a “response”, but it didn’t sound like a dinner invitation. 

“So the raids have all stopped?” Henry asked, setting down his knife and looking at Madam Lyon.

“Not completely,” Brigid said carefully. “The lower-end brothels in the back alleys off Little Lon are more often the targets. They don’t hide the fact that they peddle in prostitution and drugs. The higher class clubs like mine, and like yours will be Venus, are well-ordered and keep any serious vices well-hidden. As long as the place is clean, the drinks strong, and the girls are in good health, you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you for the information,” Venus nodded. Of course her place would be clean and classy. “I suppose the next question I have is where to find talented employees.”

“Well, if Inspector Flynn knows about you, then word has started to get around. I’m surprised you haven’t had any girls show up on your doorstep yet.”

“Not yet, but if they do, I’m going to give them a rag or a paintbrush and put them to work,” Venus asserted. “But actually, if you know any girls who need a place to stay and don’t mind a little hard work, I have a few small rooms upstairs that I was considering renting in exchange, so I think I could find a way for them to earn their keep even before I open.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Brigid said. “Well, it’s getting late and I need to get back to my club,” she added. “Thank you again for the invitation, Venus, and Henry, my compliments to your chef,” Brigid said as they walked to the front door while Frenchy pulled the car around. She turned to look at them as she stepped up to the car, a slight smile played at the corners of her mouth. 

“What is it Brigid?” Venus asked.

“Nothing important. Best of luck to you, Venus; I look forward to hearing of your success.” And with that, the door shut and Frenchy pulled away. 

++++

Henry watched his car drive away, but this time, Venus was standing right next to him and he put his arm around her as they walked back into the casino. His patrons would start arriving soon, as well, and Venus liked to leave before it got too busy, but he hoped she wouldn’t tonight. 

“Stay for a little while,” he said as they settled onto a pair of stools at the bar while Woody made their drinks.

She eyed him with mild curiosity for a moment. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll stay for another hour. But then I have to go back to the hotel and get some sleep. One more bathroom and the entire kitchen to clean tomorrow and then I can move on to the attic.”

“You’re working too hard,” Henry said, taking her hand. “Hire someone else to do that.”

“But I like doing it,” she replied. 

“I know, but who wants a madam with dishpan hands?” he teased, and she laughed.

“You apparently do,” she said, with a wag of her eyebrows. 

“More and more each day,” he replied, with a lingering glance at her lap. The memory of her luscious flesh in his mouth and all the pretty noises she made earlier that evening would linger with him for a long time, or at least, until the next time. When he looked back up, her eyes held the heat of their savory new secret. 

“Henry,” she said after a moment and a sip of her drink, her expression changing from mischievous   
to curious. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“I suppose.”

“What happened with your wife?” she asked quietly, and his gut responded with a small, but noticeable twitch. He swallowed and looked down; he’d been trying to forget. “You don’t have to answer,” she said quickly, reaching out to put a hand on his knee. 

“It’s all right,” he said, swigging the last of his drink and signalling to Woody for another. He understood why she was asking: if this were to go any further between them, he owed it to her to tell her. “Her mother got very sick a couple years ago, late ‘27. So she went to Hobart to stay with her until she got better. But, she didn’t get better, and the doctors gave her only a couple months to live. So Annie decided to stay until she passed. While she was there, her mother’s preacher would come to visit often, and he and Annie talked a lot and she ended up ‘getting saved’, she called it.” He rolled his eyes and took a long sip. “She decided she didn’t want to be married to a gangster anymore and asked for a divorce. I really couldn’t fault her for that, so I let her go.” 

“That must have been hard.”

“It was,” he acknowledged. “She and I were really good together. We built this place, this business, from the ground up.”

“Do you still miss her?”

He shrugged. “I’ve gotten over her leaving if that’s what you mean. But I suppose I’ll always care for her as a person, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She came back a couple times,” he went on, downing his next drink in larger gulps. “Once for the court appearance, and once to get her things. We got into big fights both times. We’d had fights before, but never like that. I realized later she’d done it on purpose to make it easier for me to not want her around. And she didn’t even want any alimony or to split anything. Said it was all ill-gotten gain. Even when I sold our house, she didn’t want any of the proceeds.”

“So where do you live if you sold your house?”

“I converted some space upstairs to a small living area. It’s not much, but it suits.” He shrugged again and she nodded sympathetically. “Anyway,” he said, shaking off the gloomy tone of the conversation and changing the subject. “Do you want to gamble a little tonight? My treat.”

“I won’t refuse that offer,” she smiled. “What do you suggest?”

“Roulette is always exciting,” he said. 

“Roulette it is, then,” she replied and he escorted her to the roulette table. He handed a ten shilling note to the dealer who passed him a stack of ten chips which he handed to Venus. 

“Let’s see what you can do with these,” he said and she gave him a sly grin in return. She walked around the table, watching the wheel as it spun and which bets won, then found a spot along the rail and set several combinations of chips down in four different places. He moved to stand behind her, and when the ball dropped, her highest bet of 5 chips won at 8:1. She’d just quadrupled her money. 

“That was impressive,” he said, leaning in and speaking behind her ear. 

“Here’s something even more impressive,” she said, taking 40 chips off the table and turning around. “Hold out your hands.” He did and she dumped the chips into them.

“You won these fair and square,” he said, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“With your money,” she said.

“Then consider it another small investment in Club Phoenix,” he insisted. “Hire someone to clean bathrooms for you.”

She looked at him, then at the handful of chips, then back up at his face. “Alright, Crime King, cash me out.”

He grinned at her and she tucked her hand into his elbow as they walked over to the cashier’s cage. He exchanged the chips for £2 and handed it to her.

“You’re right, you know,” she said as they walked back to his office. “I have been working too hard.”

“You’re agreeing with me? Now look who’s turning heads,” he teased as he drew the curtains.

“Your head was turned the moment you laid eyes on me, Henry Stokes,” she bantered back, perching on the corner of his desk and crossing her knees so her hem slid back again. “Don’t you lie to me.”

“True,” he said, eyeing her legs and leaning back in his chair. “So WHY are you agreeing with me?”

“Because I do push myself too hard, sometimes. I’ve had to work for everything and old habits die hard.”

“So what are you going to do about that?”

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow,” she said. “I think I’ll take myself to the library and do a little research. Check out some old newspapers and read up on the demise of Hall and Sanderson, find out about their replacements, and educate myself on Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson.”

“The newspapers don’t know the whole story,” Henry said. “Madam Lyon gave you more tonight than you’d ever read in the papers.”

“Ah, but the papers provide a different perspective. It’s always good to know the other side.”

“Way too bookish for me,” Henry said. “I have a full network of informants that keeps me up to date.”

“But I don’t, not yet anyway. And someone is keeping Brigid Lyon and Inspector Flynn up to date on me, and I don’t like being in the dark.”

They shared another drink, and when she said she needed to leave Henry tried to sweet talk her into staying longer, but she declined.

“Then just kiss me before you go,” he said, standing in front of where she sat on his desk. She reached up and laid her palm gently on his face and he leaned into it. 

“C’mere,” she whispered, and he leaned down and kissed her. Her mouth opened under his, tasting of whiskey and ‘her’, and his insides groaned. He pulled her up off the desk and into his arms, and she melted against him. 

++++

Venus dropped her coat and purse on a chair in the sitting area of her room at the Windsor, kicked off her shoes, ambled into the bedroom and flopped backward on the big, soft bed. What the hell was she going to do about Henry Stokes? 

She’d been honest when she told Henry she didn’t trust herself and that she’d scared herself with how she’d treated Joey and burned down the Black Dahlia. Of course she knew a cop wouldn’t be convicted for destroying a brothel, and no one would believe she would burn down her own place if he’d tried to pin it on her. She could just as easily have had Joey killed on the street, the way she’d had him attacked as a warning, but killing him was a one-way ticket to the noose, and the idea of killing another human being horrified her. And maybe she had still cared about him. Instead, she’d sacrificed her own livelihood to get them both out of a bad situation that was only getting worse. She just hoped Joey realized that, and maybe respected her a little bit for it. 

She could tell within a few days that Henry was not like Joey. Under that gruff, gangster exterior he was kind and caring and even a bit humble at times. He didn’t try to possess her, and he respected her ambition and business sense. She allowed her mind to spin a few visions of their partnership growing, adding her talents to Henry’s already considerable operation. The money they could make would be incredible and the temptation to pursue it was intoxicating. If nothing else, she wanted to become a wealthy woman in her own right, and Henry’s investment would help her do that. She would do whatever she could to pay him back as soon as possible to ensure her financial independence. Her business would be hers alone, even if the success was shared with Henry. 

It was the personal side that made her toss and turn at night. Their foray into the back office this evening had been just what she’d needed to temporarily quell the stormy desire that had taken up residence in her core since the first time he’d kissed her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had gone down on her. In her line of work, she was not usually on the receiving end, and even Joey had refused to do it. Henry was not only willing, but eager to oblige, and reflecting on his enthusiasm for the task only weakened her resolve to not become too deeply involved with Melbourne’s top gangster. She rubbed her face with her hands in frustration, but the image of his head between her thighs appeared inside her eyelids, making her slick all over again. She rolled over and groaned, recalling the delicious weight of him on her tongue, thrusting against the back of her throat, and her cunt was suddenly jealous of her mouth. She hadn’t even wanted Joey this much, or any man for that matter. 

She drug herself up and changed into her silk pajamas, doing all the other little bedtime things she always did, but after she’d turned out the light and crawled under the covers, her hands helped her fall asleep with Henry on her mind. 

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've been so patient, I've decided to post 2 chapters tonight!   
> Click "Next" for more Jack and finally some Phryne, too!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Note: If you landed here on 1/21/21 - be sure to go back to CH 6 first! (You're welcome)*  
> ++++  
> Jack does his research and discusses it all with Phryne.  
> Venus opens up more about her past - has she finally decided to trust Henry?  
> (This is where the "discussion of past abuse/rape" tag comes in.)  
> ++++

Phryne had once complimented Jack on how well-connected he was. Jack had downplayed the observation at the time, but she’d be surprised if she knew the extent of his connections. Today he would be making use of a few of them in Sydney, to find out more about Madam Venus DeRosier. As much as he cared about Mick, he knew his smitten friend would not do a lick of research and would end up finding himself in a tight spot. Jack was of the conviction that adults should accept responsibility for their own choices, but Mick had come through for him on the job a few times recently, and in Jack’s mind it was his turn to return the favor. So he started making some calls. 

“Darlinghurst Police Station, how may I direct your call?”

“Detective Inspector William MacKay, please,” Jack said. If there was one positive thing the War had done, it was provide Australian veterans with contacts all over the country, which was quite helpful for those who had ended up in law enforcement.

“Inspector MacKay here,” came the clipped, Scotish brogue that reminded Jack of his grandfather.

“Bill, Jack Robinson.”

“Robbo! How are ya, mate?” The two shared a bit of small talk before MacKay got down to business. “So what can I do for you?”

“Are you familiar with a former Sydney Madam named Venus DeRosier?”

“Ah, the beautiful Madam Venus,” MacKay mused. “Aye, she is quite well-known here, although her brothel recently burned to the ground in a suspicious fire. Why are you asking?”

“Seems she’s relocated to Melbourne,” Jack replied, taking notes. “A suspicious fire, you said?”

“Aye. It’s been about three months now. The police raided her place, the Black Dahlia, and a few days later it was smouldering heap. The detective who led the raid was charged with arson. It was all over the papers.”

“Why was the fire suspicious if you charged someone for it?”

“Because even though some of the evidence points to Detective Holton, there apparently is room for doubt. You’d have to talk to the fire investigation unit to find out more.”

“Why was a detective charged?”

“It seems he and the madam had a little thing going on that had started to take a turn for the worse.”

“Did he order the raid? Out of spite?”

“There was plenty of sly-grog and even a little cocaine confiscated, so whatever his reasons, she was still peddling illegal substances. The cops made a terrible mess of her place, but she wasn’t arrested.”

“Hmm,” Jack mused. “Well, have that fire investigator call me,” he said. “Sounds like we could use whatever information you can provide about the new addition to our red light district.”

They said their goodbyes and Jack hung up and made another call. 

+++

“Morris Turner, Private Investigations,” Mo said into the phone, tucking it under his ear so he could stub out his cigarette and grab a pencil.

“Mo, Jack Robinson, how ya goin’, mate?”

Mo sat up straight, his mind snapping into focus at the sound of that voice. “Just aces, Inspector,” he said carefully. “What about you?”

“You can drop the ‘inspector’ formalities, Mo,” Robinson said. “This is just a friendly chat.”

“It’s never JUST a friendly chat, is it mate? There’s always a quid pro quo.”

“I’m only looking for information,” Robinson said. “Just some recent history from Sydney’s mean streets.”

“Information can put you in the morgue, you know that better than anyone, Robbo,” Mo said, a creeping feeling coming over him regarding the nature of the inspector’s call. 

“Trust me, Mo, you’re much more useful to me as a private dick* than a dead digger, and you know I’m covering your arse from afar.”

“So you say,” Mo grumbled. “I don’t suppose I’ll get paid for this, will I?”

“You know the going rate,” Robinson replied. “Or have you forgotten what I just said about covering your arse?”

“Yeah, alright,” Mo sighed. “What do you wanna know?”

“I want to know about the fire at the Black Dahlia, and why the Sydney cops think it’s suspicious.”

An invisible stone dropped in Mo’s gut. Two requests for information in the same week about the same topic, from opposite sides of the law - this was not a good sign. He swallowed hard and decided to hedge. “You think I know everything that goes on in this city?”

“Of course, not,” Robinson replied. “But what you don’t know you can find out. In fact,” he continued. “I think you already know but for some reason you’re afraid to tell me. And here I am, protecting you from that desertion charge, and not reaping the rewards.”

“You’re worse than the crims with that manipulative bullshit,” Mo griped, and a low chuckle rumbled through the line in response. 

“Just tell me what you know,” Robinson said, turning serious. “It might save another cop,” he added. “Another vet.”

Mo liked the cops better than the crims for obvious reasons, but the crims paid him well so he played both sides of the fence. And then there was former Lance Corporal Jack Robinson, from whom he would never need payment no matter how much he pretended to complain. Mo had already been missing from his unit for three days, waiting for the opportunity to disappear, when Robinson had found him, brought his lousy digger arse back to camp and covered for him. If anyone found out he’d deserted, even for a few days, there’d be a court martial and firing squad, and Robinson had promised to never tell anyone. Later, the two of them had saved a small platoon of new recruits and they all went on to capture a German gun emplacement. It had been one of the few good days at Verdun. Mo was a sucker for helping the good guys, especially those who had served their country. 

So Mo lit another cigarette and told Robbo everything he knew about the relationship between Madam DeRosier and Detective Joe Holton, about the raid and the hasty evacuation of the Black Dahlia, about the fire and the clues and the planted evidence, and finally the deduction that Madam DeRosier had set the fire herself. He could hear Robinson’s pencil scribbling notes as he talked, and he tried to be as clear and detailed as possible. When he finished there was silence on the other end of the line.

“You still there, Robbo?” Mo asked. 

“Why did you say information can put you in the morgue, Morris?” Robinson asked him. “Why didn’t you want to tell me this?”

“Because I was asked for the same information earlier in the week and I was paid double not to tell anyone else what I knew.”

“Who asked you?”

“Henry Stokes.”

++++

“So what are you going to do about it?” Phryne asked, refilling his whiskey and settling in next to him on the settee. He’d shared his concerns about Venus DeRosier with Phryne to gain her insight and perspective, and she’d been sufficiently intrigued and affected by the Madam’s story.

“There’s not much I can do,” Jack replied. “She hasn’t committed any crimes in Melbourne that we know of, and she hasn’t opened her club yet, so we can’t raid it or arrest her. Plus, it’s not even my jurisdiction. Mick was just over there yesterday, and if I go over there a few days later, just to tell her not to get involved with him, she’ll wonder what the hell is going on, if she doesn’t already.” 

“And you’re concerned about Henry Stokes knowing this information about her?”

“At first I was just concerned about Mick, but now that I know Stokes has the same information about Madam DeRosier that I do, and that he paid handsomely for it, there are much larger issues at play.”

“So why would Stokes go to so much trouble, Jack?”

“Stokes always does his research. The fact that he wanted information about Madam DeRosier means he’s connected to her somehow, and he needs the information to protect his own interests. He’s not in the brothel business, so it wouldn’t be for competitive reasons. It must be for business reasons. Either he’s made a deal with her, or is considering it.”

“But if he’s not in the brothel business, what kind of deal would he make with a madam?”

“Sly grog, drugs, protection,” Jack sipped his whiskey. “He may even be considering setting up some gambling at her place.”

“If it is gambling, why a brothel? He has two-up schools all over the city, hiding behind all manner of businesses.” Jack looked at her with eyebrows raised. “From what I’ve heard,” she hedged.

“To keep the police guessing, I imagine.”

“Or maybe there’s some other crime he’s trying to hide,” Phryne speculated. “What else is he into?”

“He’s a fence for stolen goods,” Jack said. “That’s apparently how he and Squizzy got together. Stokes would fence the proceeds from Squzzy’s jewelry store heists.”

“Hmmm….” Phryne mused. “How do you know so much about Stokes anyway?” she asked, sipping her drink.

“Cops talk. Plus, every time Stokes pokes his nose out of the door of his casino the papers write about it. The citizens of Melbourne developed a fascination with Stokes and Squizzy and the other gangsters over the years, so they follow the stories like a radio serial.”

“Seems like I missed a lot of excitement while I was away all those years.”

“Depends on your definition of excitement,” Jack grimaced. “The Fitzroy Vendetta was a dangerous time to live anywhere between Richmond and Carlton.”

“So Stokes has the same information about Madam DeRosier from your private detective friend in Sydney,” Phryne said. “Surely the criminal crowd he knows would have given him enough information without going to a private detective. Do you think he didn’t trust his gangster friends?”

“Stokes must have felt that the conventional criminal wisdom wasn’t accurate. Maybe he was checking up on something she told him. Mo certainly discovered some damning information about Madam DeRosier if it’s true. And knowing the kind of criminal Stokes is, he would certainly hold that type of information over her head to get what he wants.”

“But he wouldn’t have known all that damning information until he talked to the private detective, so what would he want from her that would make him want to know more than the average Sydney gangster?”

“That’s the ultimate question, I suppose,” Jack swallowed the last of his drink and Phryne refilled him. “And now that he does know that damning information, what is he going to do with it?”

Phryne thought for a moment, and Jack watched as the gears turned behind her eyes. “What if he doesn’t do anything with it?” she mused.

“What do you mean?”

“You said Madam DeRosier is beautiful?” she asked.

“Mick is head over heels, and both my contacts in Sydney described her as such.”

“Is Henry Stokes married?”

“He was. Annie Stokes was fully involved with Henry’s business, and they were married for close to twenty years. Then she moved back to Tasmania, turned to the church and divorced her gangster husband.”

“Well, even as a non-religious person I can’t blame her for that,” Phryne commented, swirling her drink and thinking. “So what if, despite knowing that she burned down her own business and framed a police officer for it,” she mused. “What if Henry Stokes has fallen in love with Madam DeRosier? And that’s the reason for their partnership?”

Jack looked sideways at her. “I have a difficult time imagining Henry Stokes in love with anything other than money,” he said. 

“Stokes may be a criminal, but he’s still a man, Jack,” Phryne said. “He’s successful at his business, enjoying a long-term marriage, but suddenly finds himself divorced. Then in walks a beautiful, ambitious woman with similar goals and on the same side of the law. How could he not fall for her?” she paused for a moment and looked pointedly at him. “Sounds like another couple we know.”

“Phryne, that’s bordering on ridiculous,” he rolled his eyes. She’d probably hit the nail on the head, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction right away. 

“Is it?” she asked. “And I wouldn’t blame Madam DeRosier for falling for Stokes either. Successful, powerful, influential, handsome…” she recounted slowly.

“Handsome?” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Have you ever seen him, Jack?”

“Just newspaper photographs, but I’m probably not the one to judge something like that.”

“Of course he’s handsome,” she said, eyeing him over her whiskey glass. “He could be your twin. I saw him at the theater once and had to do a double-take because I thought it was you. Aside from his unusual facial hair, the resemblance is uncanny.”

“So I’ve heard,” he said, making a face. “Are you insinuating that Henry Stokes and Madam DeRosier are the criminal version of us?”

“Imitation is the highest form of flattery, you know that, Jack,” she smirked, and he laughed. 

“I just wish I’d had the extensive background information on you when we met that Stokes has on Madam DeRosier,” he bantered. 

“Where’s the mystery in that?” she smiled. 

“Speaking of mysteries, and madams,” he said, leaning a little closer to her and lowering his voice. It was time to change the subject. “I believe there are some mysteries to the fan dance that I’ve not yet unlocked.”

“Mysteries as numerous as feathers in the fans,” she purred. “Do you think we’ll solve them all?”

“I’m sure we’ll uncover everything eventually,” he said, leaning in and brushing his lips to her neck, his fingers slipping under her neckline, sliding her dress off her shoulder and exposing more of her alabaster skin. 

“Mmmm…,” she moaned as his mouth moved lower. “No doubt.”

++++

“I noticed you’re not registered under ‘Venus DeRosier’ at the Windsor,” Henry remarked after dinner as they relaxed in his office, their feet propped up on opposite sides of his desk, he with his cigar and she with her long-handled cigarette. “They had to deliver the flowers twice.”

“So I heard,” she replied, taking a pretty puff. “But you can understand why I couldn’t use that name, not right away.”

“Of course, I’m just curious what name you would use. A totally fake name, or maybe an alias you’ve used before?” Now that they’d come to know each other better, Henry tried his best to wheedle all sorts of information out of her, but she had caught on to his game quickly and hardly ever revealed anything. It didn’t stop him from trying, however. He enjoyed the challenge, and he always ended up discovering something, even if it wasn’t what he was asking about. The more he learned about her, the more captivated he became.

“Ha! You think I’m going to tell you?” she replied. 

“I have contacts at the Windsor,” he sighed with mock patience, as if he’d had to regularly remind her of his vast network. “I could find out if I wanted to.”

“And here I thought you wanted me to trust you,” she replied, a hint of wariness rising in her teasing tone.

“Like I said, ‘if I wanted to’,” he replied. “But I won’t. I respect your privacy.”

“Not enough to refrain from sniffing around Sydney,” she huffed, expelling a cloud of smoke and giving him a look.

“That’s business, Venus,” he explained, leveling a gaze at her. “You would do the same.”

“Oh, you’re damn right I would - and have,” she asserted. “You think the former police commissioners and the detective duo of Fisher and Robinson were the only things I researched at the library today?”

“And what did you find out,” he smirked with curiosity.

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Henry Stokes,” she shook a finger at him with a sly grin. “Shame on you.”

He laughed and she joined him. 

“I think you like that,” he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice and giving her a wag of his eyebrows. “I think it winds you up.” 

“Oh, yes,” she exaggerated, fanning herself with her hand. “I almost swooned a dozen times reading about how you got out of jail, or got charges dropped or otherwise skated. You have quite a record of avoiding extended stays in the cooler. That’s SO attractive.”

Despite her ability to knock him down a peg, he laughed at her abuse of his ego. He’d never known a woman who could put him in his place while simultaneously making him feel like a champion stallion.

“Judges and juries love me,” he joked.

“Love you? Or are afraid of you?”

“The result is the same, isn’t it?” he held out his hands expansively.

“How Machiavellian of you,” she observed. 

“And what ends justify any means for you, Madam DeRosier?” he asked, taking a long draw on his cigar and exhaling elegantly.

“My freedom,” she insisted right away. 

“Have you ever been in jail?”

“Once, a long time ago, when I was working solo. I got two weeks for soliciting. I was only trying to catch a ride across town as it was after the last tram. The delousing and scratchy wool dress was almost as bad as my cellmate’s breath. It’s not an experience I want to repeat.”

“I can imagine.”

“Anyway, after that, I joined a club which gave me respectability and exposure to being a business owner, and so I set my sights on that. Took seven years of working with Madam Juno before she turned the club over to me, but that was one of the greatest days of my life.”

“So you were never arrested for running a brothel?”

“Club, Henry,” she reminded him. “It’s a club. And no, never arrested for that.”

“Did Detective Holton prevent that?”

“Yes, but only for the last year or so. And that wasn’t the reason I started seeing him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why did you get involved with him?”

+++

Venus had been trying not to divulge much about her background and history, but it was hard with Henry. He asked good questions that led her into conversation, and if she wasn’t paying attention she would reveal something she didn’t want him to know, not yet anyway. She enjoyed his friendship and their banter, but now she’d found herself at a point in the conversation where she had to decide. Should she tell him about Joey? He’d already told her about Annie, and without hesitation. It was only fair she should reciprocate. 

“One of my girls was a cousin of Joey’s - Detective Holton - and he started coming around and checking on her,” she began. “Off the clock, of course. We got to talking and one thing led to another. I didn’t see right away how manipulative he was because he was so charming. He kept trying to get his cousin to leave the business, but she would barely talk to him. I thought that was just a difference of moral opinion. And of course she wouldn’t tell me the straight story on Joey because all the girls knew he and I had become close.”

She stubbed out her cigarette and Henry offered her a fresh one and a light. This was definitely a two-cigarette story. 

“After a while, he offered me a deal: that he would keep the police away from my club if I started cutting him in on the profits of my ‘headache powders’. I thought it would be a good idea to keep the cops away, and he was oh-so-charming about it. But after a few months, he wanted to up the percentage. That’s when things started to go bad. I told him I couldn’t jack up the price all at once or I’d lose all my customers, and I wasn’t going to cut my profits. So he let me raise it a bit each month, but I dragged my feet. I started to realize it would never end, and I wanted out of the deal. I’d rather be raided than manipulated. We started arguing every time he came in, which was a couple times a week, and sometimes it was loud and the girls were starting to worry. I needed to send a stronger message.”

“So what’d you do?”

“I had one of my doormen knock him out on the street one night and left a black silk dahlia in his hand and one of his monogrammed cufflinks in his pocket. He’d left them behind one night and I kept them, thinking they’d come in handy some day, and they did. I left the other one near the back door when I set the fire.” She took a long draw on her cigarette as the stifled memories started to percolate. The stress, the anger, the feeling of being trapped and betrayed - a heaviness returned to her chest and dark clouds scudded across her mind.

“Anyway, I just wanted him to leave me alone, since he wouldn’t listen when I actually said it to him.” She tapped her cigarette on the ashtray and took another long drag before exhaling with deliberate force, as if that would finally expunge the frustration of Joey from her system. When the cloud dissipated, Henry’s expression was one of shared experience.

“That doesn’t usually work with cops. They wield too much power,” he said.

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t acting like a cop, was he?” she shot back. 

“No,” he shook his head. “Did that instigate the raid?”

“It did, but it gave me time to clear out most of my stash to my safe house. When the cops showed up for the raid, I was expecting to get arrested. I didn’t think they’d hold me very long, maybe a few weeks, since there was hardly any evidence to convict me. I figured I could manage a short stint, but,” she paused and made a face. “Joey had other ideas.” 

“What do you mean?” Henry asked.

“He, uh -,” she began, then clamped her mouth shut. She looked down and crossed her arms over her chest protectively as the worst memories - the ones she’d been trying to avoid - roared back to the forefront of her mind. 

Chaos reigned that night, and cops were everywhere, yelling, her girls screaming, tables being turned over, glasses smashed. And then Joey, eyes full of rage, dragged her into her room and locked the door. The fury of his blows, the tang of blood in her mouth, the blade to her throat, the way he raped her so it would hurt, the way he hollered in victory when he was through… Every part of her remembered and all the pain returned. The aches, the throbbing, the searing sting, and every hot, sharp stab of his abuse were suddenly fresh in every fiber of skin, muscle and bone, and she was right there in the middle of it all over again.

“Venus, are you alright?” Henry was suddenly kneeling in front of her, true concern in his voice. He laid a gentle hand on her arm. “You’re shaking.”

“He beat me,” she whispered, her throat constricting. Henry didn’t say anything, he simply waited for her to go on. Looking in his eyes gave her strength to keep talking. “He gave me bruised ribs, a black eye, a split lip and a bloody nose. Then he held a knife to my throat and raped me on the floor. All of it in my personal quarters behind a locked door while other detectives and a dozen constables were turning my place upside down and scaring my girls. That’s why he didn’t arrest me,” she concluded, her voice finally breaking. “Because he wanted to hurt me and if he arrested me everyone would see what he’d done.”

“Fucking bastard,” Henry spat as he pulled her to him. 

She hated to cry, especially in front of him. She had hidden all her weaknesses all her life, but the fiery end of her time in Sydney was too much, and she was exhausted from holding it in. He produced a handkerchief from his jacket for her and she leaned into his comforting embrace. He didn’t judge her, or try to calm her before she was ready, he was just there for her - like no one had ever been before. 

“Why don’t you stay here tonight,” he murmured into her hair, stroking her back with his warm hands. “Let me take care of you.”

“No, Henry, I can’t do that, not tonight.”

“No obligations, I’ll sleep on the divan,” he said.

“You are sweet and kind, and I promise not to tell a soul,” she smiled. “But I can’t stay with you. Not yet.” At least, that’s what her head said. Her heart, on the other hand, wanted desperately to stay. But she had learned early on not to follow her heart, and her independent streak was sending her warning signals. She was used to facing her problems alone, and while she deeply appreciated Henry’s concern, she didn’t want him to think she needed him. That would give him too much influence and she didn’t know what he would do with that, so she took a deep breath and pulled the doors closed around her heart again. She was already feeling better, finding strength in being able to say no to him and not have him become upset. The look on his face was a mix of disappointment and understanding, and she placed her hand on his cheek. 

“Thank you,” she added, and he nodded. “And please don’t tell anyone what I told you.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Your secrets are safe with me, Venus. All of you is safe with me.”

She nodded her understanding, but didn’t know what to say. Something stirred in her heart that she didn’t recognize - or didn’t want to admit she recognized. It was something she’d have to think about later, without his reassuring blue eyes probing her soul and tipping her rational gyroscope precariously. 

“Thank you,” she managed. “But I feel perfectly safe in Melbourne.” 

“Do you?” he asked, scooting the other chair closer to her and taking a seat. “Even now that the police know your name and that you’re opening a new club?”

“So far,” she said. “No one knows the name I’m using at the Windsor, even if someone from Sydney did come looking for me, and there are always half a dozen workmen at the club when I’m there.”

“I can offer you a little more security, have a couple of my guys keep an eye on the hotel, see if any cops show up.”

“I appreciate it Henry, but you’re already doing so much. And the Windsor is very good about the privacy of its guests.” 

“When you move into your club, I’m going to have one of my men keep watch every night,” he said seriously. 

“Henry, you don’t need to do that.”

“Of course I do,” he said. “To protect my investment.” He squeezed her hand and lowered his voice. “And you.” 

“Henry, I’m having bars installed on all the ground floor windows, and all the locks are being replaced, and I plan on buying a new gun, too,” she said.

“And when the club is doing well-enough to pay overnight security from its own books,” he continued, overlooking her comment. “Then you can do that, but until then, as long as you’re there, I’m posting a guard.”

Venus sighed and smiled. Maybe she could get used to having someone watching her back for a change - someone who actually cared. 

“All right,” she conceded. “It is half your investment, afterall.” 

“Good, I’ll talk to Biggo and Two-Bit to see if they want to take turns,” Henry said, slapping his knees and standing up. 

“Thank you,” she said. “Again.”

“I don’t know what things are like on the ground in Sydney,” Henry said. “But in Melbourne, we look out for our friends and partners.”

It was definitely something she’d have to get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *private dick - Early in the 20th century, the word “dick” came to be used as slang for a detective, usually reserved for private detectives as a term of derision from police department detectives. It’s unclear where the term came from, but a series of UK crime novels starring Detective Dick Donovan were popular starting in the 1880s. I wasn’t able to determine if it was used that way in Australia as well as the UK and the US, but since “Donovan” was a UK creation and Australia was so closely tied to Britain, I’m going to assume for this purpose in my story that it was. The term was perpetuated through the middle of the 20th century by the comic strip detective “Dick Tracy”, but has fallen out of favor due to the generally derogatory use of the word “dick” for any man who is difficult to deal with.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New employees, jewel thieves, and Henry ups the ante. Oh! And kittens!  
> +++

“Hullo? Is anyone home?” called a young, female voice from the open front door. Venus smiled as she stood up from helping one of her renovation crew pop old carpet nails out of the floorboards in the future dressing room. It had been a week since dinner with Madam Lyon and she had almost given up expecting girls to just arrive on her doorstep.

“Coming!” she called back and went to the door. Just across the threshold stood two pretty young women. “Hello,” Venus smiled at them. “Excuse my appearance ladies,” she said, wiping her hands on her overalls. “I’m Venus DeRosier. Do come in. How may I help you?”

“Madam DeRosier,” one of the girls addressed her, holding out her hand. “Margaret Jones and my friend Sarah Sweeny.” Venus shook hands with both of them, although Sarah appeared a bit more nervous than Margaret. 

“You’re even more beautiful in person,” Sarah breathed, her eyes wide as saucers. “We’ve heard about you and the Black Dahlia from some girls who used to work at other clubs in Sydney,” she explained.

“Well, I’m sorry you caught me in my best ball gown,” Venus quipped and struck a pose, and the girls laughed. 

“But we’re not here to star gaze, right Sarah?” Margaret chided her friend. “We’re here to look for work.”

“Are you now,” Venus said, eyeing them up and down. They were decently dressed and pretty enough that a bit of makeup would make them both quite lovely. “So you know what kind of work will be going on here?” she asked them. 

“Of course,” Margaret said. “Club Phoenix will be a gentlemen’s club where men come to visit with pretty girls, drink and smoke, and sometimes the girls help them with their personal needs.” Margaret said with ease. “Down there,” she added in a whisper.

“You don’t need to whisper on my account, Margaret,” Venus said with a sideways look. 

Margaret laughed nervously. “Of course not, ma’am.”

“What about you, Sarah?” Venus said, turning to the other girl. “Do you fully understand what kind of work will be required of you?”

“Oh yes, ma’am,” the girl nodded, finding her confidence. “Sometimes the men want sex.”

Venus allowed herself a small smile. “Follow me.” She led the two of them toward the back of the hall and into her mostly-renovated office. “Please, sit down,” she said, waving her hand at two carved wooden chairs with beautifully upholstered seats facing her ornately carved wooden desk. Henry had procured the items for her “at an auction house”, he’d said, but she dared not ask if they were purchased or came into his possession some other way. 

“Have you worked in a club before?” Venus asked them, lowering herself into her own carved and upholstered chair behind the desk. 

“We used to work for a place off Little Lon,” Margaret said. “But the madam was arrested for selling cocaine and will be in jail for six months. We decided to find a new place.”

“Then I’m glad you came here.” Venus said. “Yes, ladies, the members of this club will at times want to have sex with you, and they will pay handsomely for the privilege: Eighty-percent to the house, twenty percent to you, on top of your daily wage. They may also want something else from you, expecting you to use only your hands or your mouth, or possibly a device of some sort. Are these services you are willing to provide?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah said quickly. Venus nodded and looked at Margaret. 

“Everything but my mouth, ma’am,” Margaret said. “I tend to gag - and not just with men, if I drink too fast or take too big a bite to eat, my throat just goes crazy, and -”

“No problem, Margaret,” Venus held up her hand. “We can work around that. Maybe you have another skill in your repertoire that makes you unique?”

“I know how to belly dance,” Margaret said brightly. 

“Really,” Venus was quite intrigued. “Where did you learn that?”

“My father was an attache in Persia, and the housekeepers taught me. Both my parents were killed in a earthquake while I was at school, and instead of sending me home to England, the government just sent me to Australia to live with relatives who hated me.”

“I see,” Venus nodded, understanding why Margaret’s accent skewed English rather than Australian. “It will be quite exotic having a belly dancer on staff. What about you, Sarah? Any special skills?”

“I can tend bar,” she said. “I can mix all the standard drinks, and then some.”

“Good,” Venus said. “Now, how are you two with a paint brush?” The girls looked at each other, then back to Venus in confusion, and Venus laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you paint if you don’t want to, but there is plenty of work to do to get this place up and running. I can use the help and will pay you two shillings an hour at the end of each day, if you choose to do so.” When neither of them took the bait, she moved on. “Do either of you need a place to stay?”

“No, ma’am, we share a flat in Fitzroy,” said Margaret.

“Good. But if you hear of any girls who are in financial straits and need a room and are willing to work on some of these renovations, I have a few spare rooms upstairs. Decent girls,” she qualified. “No sores or illnesses, no thieves or drunks or drug addicts.” The girls nodded that they understood. 

“I have a touch of asthma,” Sarah volunteered.

“Asthma isn’t contagious so that won’t be a problem,” Venus assured her. “So are you two on board with Club Phoenix?” Both girls assured her they were. “Wonderful, now, let’s pick you two some new names, shall we? Margaret and Sarah are a bit virginal for this type of work. Let’s see… Margaret, why don’t we go with ‘Margo’,” Venus said and the girl nodded eagerly. “Sarah, how about… ‘Selena’?” Sarah seemed excited about that as well. 

“Good, I’ll just need you to sign these employment contracts.” Venus took two sets of papers out of her desk and handed them to the girls, along with a pair of fountain pens, thankful she’d asked Gemma last week to draw up some simple terms. “There will be a medical check and treatment for any illnesses that might be spread to club membership. Once you sign the contract, you will work exclusively for me - no moonlighting, even with club membership. This is for your protection, and mine. Understood?” The girls nodded that they did, and Venus gave them some time to fill out the forms.

“One last thing,” Venus said, collecting the completed forms. “May I ask how you heard about this place?”

“Oh, ah,” Margo hedged a bit and she and Selena looked nervously at each other. Venus gave them a skeptical look. “A girl we know who works in one of the other clubs. She said she heard there was a new club opening in Albert Street.”

Venus nodded, figuring it was someone from The Imperial Club.

“And a girl I know used to work for you in Sydney, ma’am,” Selena said.

“Oh? Who was that?”

“She went by Loretta.”

“Ah, yes,” Venus nodded. “Do you know what happened to her after the Black Dahlia closed?”

“She moved on to Brisbane,” Selena said. “She likes the warmer weather.”

“Well, you let her know that she is welcome at Club Phoenix if she finds herself in Melbourne.”

“I will, ma’am,” Selena nodded. 

“Margo, Selena, thank you both for coming by,” Venus said as she walked them to the door. “Welcome to Club Phoenix and I look forward to having you two on board.” They all shook hands and said goodbye, and as they turned down the walk a familiar car pulled up. 

Henry stepped out of the car, tipped his hat to the girls, then reached back in to take something out. It was a wicker picnic hamper, and Venus’ stomach automatically rumbled. She had been so busy working, she’d forgotten to eat her lunch and it was now after two o’clock.

“That better be some of Chef John’s finest in that basket,” she called to him as he looked up at her from the walk. 

“And if it’s not?” he challenged when he finally stood in front of her on the porch.

“Then I may have to eat you, instead,” she said in a quiet and sultry voice. Her desire for Henry had roared back to life in the week since their foray into his secret office, and every time he looked in her eyes it only got stronger. 

“Well, I may get lucky today after all,” he wagged his eyebrows then stepped past her into the foyer. She followed him through to the kitchen where he set the basket down on the wooden table in the middle. Left alone, the basket started to shake and make familiar noises. 

“Henry, what did you do?” she asked, eyes widening. Henry undid the leather straps and lifted the lid, then reached in and pulled out two half-grown kittens - a wiggly ginger tabby, and a calm smoky gray with blue eyes. Henry was holding the cats against his chest - or trying to, since the ginger was attempting to get away - and the corners of his mouth turned up in a hopeful smile. 

“What do you think?” he asked. “You said you needed a couple of mousers, so here you are,” he handed both the cats toward her, and in the transfer the ginger escaped and jumped to the floor, while the gray cuddled close to her chest. 

“Oh, Henry,” she said as he reached down and scooped up the ginger, holding it still so she could get a closer look. “They’re adorable!” she nuzzled the gray who purred contentedly. The ginger wanted nothing to do with human attention and wiggled out of Henry’s grasp, scratching the meat of his thumb on the way. 

“They’re both toms,” Henry said, scratching the gray behind the ears. “So no worries about little kitten surprises. And the lady I got them from has been feeding them mouse meat along with their kibble so they’ll get the taste for it.”

“Do they have names?” Venus asked.

“Not yet.”

“Then that little rascal will be Gin,” she pointed to the ginger exploring the kitchen counter. “And this one will be Tonic. What do you think, Tonic? Do you like your name?” Tonic just purred louder. 

“Excellent pairing,” Henry agreed, smiling down at Tonic, then glancing up into her eyes. 

“They’re perfect, thank you,” she said. “But Henry, you have to stop doing things for me and bringing me gifts - flowers, furniture, fluffy critters.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have anything to give back to you,” she said. “Not yet anyway.”

“Venus,” he said softly, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “I’m not looking for a quid pro quo between us. If there’s something you need and I can provide it, I’m happy to do so. Besides, just you being here, in Melbourne, letting me see you practically every day, that’s more than enough return for a bunch of flowers and a few pieces of furniture.” 

Her knees weakened and her skin flushed up her neck to her cheeks. “Damn you, Henry Stokes,” she breathed. It happened every time. He would stand close and say something thoughtful and all sense and sass would fly away.

“What?” he grinned smugly. 

“How am I supposed to be a shrewd and calculating businesswoman if you keep turning me into sealing wax in the summer sun?” The heat must have been too much for Tonic as well, because he jumped out of her arms and dashed after his brother. Henry took the opportunity to edge closer. 

“I could leave if you’d like,” he said in a teasing tone.

“Don’t you dare,” she replied, grabbing his lapels and pulling him down to kiss her. His arms wrapped around her easily, holding her close as she melted into him. Damn him for being so attractive. Damn him for being such a good kisser. Damn him for turning her body into a live wire with a simple look. And damn him for treating her like a damn queen simply because he wanted to. And double damn him for being a damn good friend. How was she ever going to compete with that, much less feel worthy of it? 

“Are you still coming to dinner tonight?” he asked her as they came up for air.

“You got my hopes up with that basket,” she said. “You have to feed me now.”

“I like it when you’re hungry,” he rumbled, capturing her mouth again. Within moments she was pulling him into her office and locking the door where they satisfied their mutual hunger.

++++

Kozzy and Grint, two of Henry’s newer recruits, were sitting in his office waiting for him when he returned from Albert Street, with a swing by two of his other locations on the way to buy time. He’d sent them on a jewelry heist to prove their mettle, and his visit to Venus was his alibi. A sturdy leather case was sitting on his desk, awaiting his inspection.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Henry announced, and Kozzy and Grint jumped to their feet. “What have you got for me?” 

“A lot of good stuff, we hope,” Kozzy said. Henry opened the case and started going through it. 

“Where’s the rest?” Henry asked, holding up several empty velvet trays. The sheepish looks on Kozzy and Grint’s faces told a tale he really didn’t want to hear. 

“We was mugged, boss,” Grint admitted, looking down at his feet.

“Mugged? What do you mean, mugged?”

“Some bloke, a kid really, we got no idea who he is, came after us in the laneway off Union Street,” Grint said. “He had a gun and he stopped us and made us put the bag down. Then he took out a bunch of rings, stuffed ‘em in his pockets and ran off.”

“And you didn’t go after him?!” Henry yelled. “Some kid steals half the loot and you let him get away?!” 

“You told us no guns!” Grint insisted. “You said the cops make the charges worse if we had guns. So what were we supposed to do when this kid drew on us?”

“One of you distracts him and the other attacks him!” Henry shouted. “Haven’t you ever seen an American Western?”

“Sorry, boss,” they said and hung their heads. 

“Did you get a good look at him at least?”

“Nah, boss,” Kozzy said. “He had his hat pulled down over his eyes and a scarf wrapped all around his face.”

“Damnit!” Henry pounded his fist on his desk. He knew he couldn’t do anything about the lost merchandise; with no description of the thief, it could have been anyone. The possibility of one of the younger gangs starting to horn in on his territory was something he’d expected, but not an outright theft in broad daylight by a single, armed crook. 

“So now I have to ask, which one of you lagged about the job?” Henry lowered his voice and stared daggers at Grint and Kozzy. 

“Neither of us, boss!” they said together, quickly and earnestly, shaking their heads. “We’ve only ever talked about it right in here with you,” Kozzy added. 

“All right, then maybe you’re skimming,” Henry challenged, entertaining another possibility. 

“No, boss, never!” the men insited. 

Henry walked around his desk to the curtain and called Snag in to join them. “What’s the penalty for stealing from me, Snag?”

“A long visit at St. Vincent’s hospital,” Snag replied. 

“That’s right. Please take their coats and go through the pockets,” Henry said, and Grint and Kozzy peeled off their coats quickly. 

“Alright you two, strip,” Henry ordered. Grint and Kozzy gulped and their mouths dropped. “I said, strip!” Henry barked. The men nervously unbuckled their pants and let them fall at their ankles while undoing their shirts. Henry didn’t believe for a moment they were skimming or hiding any of the jewelry on themselves, but the point of the exercise was to remind them how humiliating it is to make a big mistake, and if it put the fear of God into them about not stealing from him, all the better. 

When the men were stripped down to their smalls, Henry picked up his shotgun from behind his desk and walked over to them. Kozzy was literally trembling as Henry approached, and Grint was hyperventilating. Henry considered he might need some tougher blokes in his employ. 

“You better not be lying to me,” Henry growled, pressing the barrel of the shotgun under Kozzy’s jaw as if it were a knife. 

“No, boss,” Kozzy squeaked. 

“Cuz I’ll know if you do,” he scowled, then lowered the barrel to rub it down the man’s chest, all the way to his thighs, did the same up and down Kozzy’s sides and then down his back. No hidden pockets of jewelry, altho Kozzy’s family jewels left a good bit to be desired and Henry allowed himself a smirk. He searched Grint the same way, running the barrel of his shotgun over the man’s undergarments while Grint squinted his eyes shut, obviously more embarrassed than afraid at that point. 

Henry leaned back against the front of his desk, cradled his shotgun, and was about to read the riot act to his two hapless jewel thieves, when Frenchy poked his head through the curtains.

“Boss, your guest is here,” Frency said. 

“Perfect,” Henry said with a sneer. “Send her in.”

Venus floated in on a cloud of sunshine and french perfume, her eyes instantly finding Henry’s and smiling, before stopping short and taking in the scene before her. Kozzy and Grint turned beet red and covered their crotches instinctively.

“This looks like a private party,” she said. “Should I wait outside?”

“No, please join us,” Henry said, patting the corner of his desk, then turned to his jewel thieves. “Pull your pants up,” he said and they gladly did. 

Venus slid onto the corner of the desk next to Henry, letting her fur fall off her shoulders and her hem ride up her knee. “Everything alright?” she asked. 

“Grint and Kozzy here were supposed to come back with that case full of jewelry from Hardy Brothers, but they only came back with half a case,” Henry explained. “They say they were robbed on the street in broad daylight by a lone gunman with his face covered who only took half the stash.”

“So you suspect an inside job,” Venus said.

“Not sure,” Henry said. “But I am making sure they understand the ramifications of trying to cheat me.”

“I think you’re making yourself quite clear,” she agreed. 

“I think so, too,” Henry agreed. “Besides, I have better things to do now than look at you worthless fucking cockies standing there like idiots. Get your things and get out of here!” he barked. The men grabbed their shirts and jackets and tumbled out of the office with Snag bringing up the rear. “And don’t think for one moment I’m going to forget your incompetence!” he hollered after them.

+++

Henry took a calming breath once Grint, Kozzy and Snag were gone and leaned his face toward hers. “Well, hello,” he said. 

“Well, hello,” she smiled and leaned in for a brief kiss, her stomach fluttering from the untamed intensity in Henry’s voice as he was yelling at his men. It fluttered even more when he turned on a tuppence into the sweet, besotted man she was discovering under all that gangster bluster. It was becoming harder each day to deny her affection for him, and while she treasured their simple kissed greeting, the gun in his lap was just too tempting for her madam’s mind. 

“That’s quite a long, firm barrel you have there,” she said, caressing the length of it with the tips of her fingers. His eyes flashed with heat and a growl lifted from his throat. 

“I may be holding the gun,” he said, “but you’re the one killing me.” 

“I do like a man who knows how to handle his weapon,” she purred. 

“Just say the word, and I’ll be happy to give you a demonstration,” he replied, his voice was low and raspy and rumbled its way into her core. Desire for him flared, and she no longer came to Henry’s place unprepared.

“Is now a good time?” she found herself saying. “I would never say no to twice in one day,” she added.

He grinned, propped his shotgun against the desk, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his embrace. Her arms snaked over his shoulders and his mouth descended upon hers for a furious kiss. His hands rode over her derriere, pressing her closer as his erection grew between them. She slid her hand between their bodies, gripping his hardening length through his trousers as he groaned into her mouth.

“Fuck, Venus,” he panted against her neck, rucking up the hem of her dress and reaching between her legs. His fingers teased her through the silk of her knickers and she whimpered. Her body was already aching to finally feel him inside her. 

A commotion from the bar area filtered past the curtains, quickly becoming louder, and Henry let go of her in an instant and grabbed his gun, aiming it toward the noise just as Woody, Chef John and Two-Bit came barging in. Chef John was trying to keep Woody and Two-Bit from killing each other, and all three were shouting. 

“What the fuck is going on!” Henry shouted over the ruckus, taking a firm stance and aiming the gun at the intruders, getting their attention right away. The three men caught up short and put their hands in the air. Venus smoothed her dress down and leaned back on the desk to catch her breath. She glanced sideways at Henry’s crotch where his erection was tenting his trousers, but he obviously didn’t care, and his men were far too focused on the double barrels pointed at them.

“Two-Bit’s been skimming the shipments!” Woody declared, causing Two-Bit to start hollering in his own defense, Woody to start hollering back, and Chef John to lunge between them again, hollering at both.

“SHUT UP!” Henry yelled, making everyone else jump. The three mumbled “sorry boss” in unison and stood still, looking down at their shoes.

“Now,” Henry said, lowering the gun to waist level but not relaxing his squared stance. “I want Chef John to tell me what he knows WITHOUT either of you two saying a word, understood?” Woody and Two-Bit nodded. “Go ahead, John.”

“Woody was doing his weekly bottle count and it came up four bottles short, which is exactly the number of deliveries we’ve had in the last week. All expensive stuff,” John said and Woody nodded his agreement with that account. “Two-Bit says he always counts the bottles before he leaves the supplier, and it’s never been off by a single bottle compared to the invoice.” Two-Bit folded his arms and lifted his chin to indicate he was right, also. “Anyway, they started fighting and I tried to stop them because I know you have company, boss,” Chef John concluded.

Henry flicked his eyes at Venus and cleared his throat, letting the barrel of the shotgun point down at his side. “What about last week, Woody,” he asked. “Anything missing?”

“Maybe one or two, but I can’t remember which ones,” Woody said. 

“And you’re sure you’ve never miscounted,” Henry said to Two-Bit.

“Never, Boss.” 

“Boss, may I go back to the kitchen to finish cooking?” Chef John asked.

“Please,” Henry said and relaxed, leaning back on the desk next to Venus. He glared at Woody and Two-Bit. “I know you two don’t get along under normal conditions,” Henry began. “But did either of you consider that maybe it’s the supplier that’s skimming?” The two men looked at each other. “Of course you didn’t,” Henry rolled his eyes. “Two-Bit, when is the next shipment?”

“Monday.”

“Good, that gives us a couple days. I want whatever orders and invoices you two have on my desk before noon tomorrow. I’ll look everything over and then I’ll decide how to handle the next shipment, alright?” 

“Yes, boss,” they both mumbled. 

“Now get out of here!” he barked and the two men hustled back out the way they came in. 

“Well, dinner and a show tonight, Henry,” Venus said with a smirk and a lift of her eyebrow. “I’m impressed.” But Henry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Not just any show, but a circus, as it appears I have four clowns on the payroll,” he groused, pushing himself off the desk and walking around it to put his gun away in the cabinet. She watched him as he started to pace his office, burning off the adrenaline. 

“Would you like me to help you take your mind off it?” she asked gently after a few moments.

He stopped and looked at her, then sighed heavily. 

“I’m not, I mean, I just…” he hedged, coming to stand in front of her and taking her hands. “Thanks, luv, but I’m alright, for now. I’m sorry,” he added sheepishly.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “Shit happens.” 

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Of course you will,” she smiled.

“And I am sorry you had to see me yelling at my men like that.”

“Are you kidding? A little bit of that goes a long way to crank my engine,” she said in a sultry tone, fingering his lapels. 

“I’ll be adding that bit of information to my mental dossier on the mysterious Madam DeRosier,” he bantered back. 

“I expect no less,” she smiled.

“And before we go to dinner,” Henry said, turning to the desk and sliding the leather jewelry heist case toward him. “Why don’t you pick out one of these that you really like.” He opened the bag and wagged his eyebrows at her as he started to pull out trays filled with rings.

“Oh, Henry, I don’t think I can do that,” she said. “What if someone sees it and recognizes it from the heist?”

“That’s not very likely, unless you run into an employee of the store, which I doubt you’d do in your line of work. The Hardy Brothers are good Catholic boys,” he said, setting half a dozen trays on the desk, the stones glittering as they refracted the various light sources around the room. “Go ahead, pick one.”

Venus had been trying hard to accept the gifts Henry kept giving her, but flowers and kittens were one thing. Not a single ring before her would go for less than £50, and most were worth way beyond that. Her eyes were drawn to a tray of opal rings. 

“My father died in a cave-in at the Lightning Ridge opal mine,” she said, picking up the tray and scanning over the stones. “They’re my birthstone, and I once owned an opal on a chain that he’d sent me for my birthday, but it was lost in a move.”

She ran her fingers over the colorful rings. Some stones were the milky white of the Coober Pedy mine; others were the blue-green opals of Queensland, but the one that captured her imagination was a dark and mysterious pillow-shaped stone ringed with 20 round diamonds: a black opal, the type mined at Lightning Ridge. She removed it from the tray and held it up, tipping it around in the light to watch the colors flash. The dark crystal was filled with fiery reds, oranges and yellows, along with a hint of green and a touch of magenta. The way the flashes moved together looked like flaming wings of a bird - like a Phoenix. 

“This one,” she said, putting it on her right ring finger and turning to Henry. 

“Hmm… let me see,” he said. “Do you mind?” he asked as he slid it back off her finger. She nodded her assent and he walked behind his desk to take out his loupe and examine the stone. “This is one of the most exquisite opals I’ve ever seen,” he remarked. 

“The Phoenix Opal,” she said, and he looked up at her, then back at the stone, turning it under the light.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he nodded. He walked back around to where she was standing. “I would pay full price for you to have this ring,” he said, holding it up. “I don’t have to, but I would.”

“Either way it really is too much, Henry,” she said, feeling the weight of his affection for her as he stepped closer, a weight she had become accustomed to and had started to miss when they were apart, even though the seriousness of it scared her. 

“No,” he whispered, sliding the ring back onto her finger, this time the third finger of her left hand. “Nothing is too much.” 

He held her hand in his and the intensity of his gaze caused her to glance back down at the ring. “Henry!” she gasped, suddenly aware of what he’d done, the finger he’d chosen. She looked back into his clear blue eyes - patient, serious, and hopeful. 

“I’m not going to ask anything of you right now,” he went on. “I just want you to know what my intentions are. You wear that ring on whatever finger you choose, and when you’re ready, you let me know.”

“Alright,” she whispered, trembling, “I will.” He wrapped her in his arms and held her.  
++++


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venus makes a surprising acquaintance in the nail salon.  
> Oh, and you want more Jack & Phryne? I gotcha covered!  
> ++++

Venus walked into Minnie Cruise’s Beauty Salon in Collins Street and instantly relaxed. There was just something soothing about a manicure, and she was grateful to have found Minnie’s soon after she’d arrived in town. 

“How are you today, Miss DeRosier,” cooed Hattie, her favorite manicurist. 

“Much better just sitting here,” Venus sighed, removing her gloves and resting her forearms on the table between them. 

“Och, Miss DeRosier!” Hattie scolded. “What have you been doing to your poor hands in the last two weeks?”

“Oh, let’s see,” Venus said. “Scraping old paint, popping nails and sanding floors, scrubbing woodwork, polishing brass, painting…” Venus trailed off as a movement to her right caught her eye: A swish of black hair cut in a bob and the swing of a dangling earring against creamy white skin. She didn’t look directly toward the movement, but from the corner of her eye, the back of another woman was visible and she had appeared to be cocking her head, listening. Then the other woman laughed with her manicurist and Venus shook her own head dismissively, chiding herself for being paranoid.

“Still working on that old place you bought?” Hattie was asking.

“Renting,” Venus replied. “But yes, still working on it. Still a few more weeks until it’s ready, but I’m planning to move in in a week or two.”

“Not happy at the Windsor any more?” Hattie asked, gently placing Venus’ fingers in warm soapy water. Venus caught the other woman tipping her head again and scowled. 

“Please don’t mention those kinds of details about me out loud,” she whispered to Hattie. “I’m a single woman and I like my privacy.”

“Oh, sorry,” Hattie whispered, chastened. “But aren’t you seeing someone? You mentioned you have a man.”

Venus sighed. “I do,” she said. “But it’s …” she dug for the right word. “It’s complicated.” she finally said. 

“Is this the same man you were talking about two weeks ago? Cuz it didn’t sound complicated then.”

“Yes, it’s the same man,” Venus replied. “But last night he expressed his intentions to me.”

“You mean?” Hattie’s eyes grew wide with wonder. Venus used her free hand to pull on the chain that held the opal ring below her neckline. She held the ring out for Hattie to see and the girl’s eyes went even wider. “Crikey, Miss!” she exclaimed, a little louder than she should have, causing most of the eyes in the salon to look their way, including the black-haired woman’s, and earning her a scowl from Minnie Cruise herself. Venus quickly closed her hand over the ring and held it to her chest

“Sorry!” Hattie squeaked toward Minnie Cruise, then whispered it again to Venus. 

“Don’t worry, Hattie,” Venus said. “This ring deserves a crikey,” she grinned and the girl grinned back. 

“Can I see it again?” Hattie asked and Venus nodded and opened her palm so only Hattie could see. “Ah, Miss, it’s a beaut!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Venus said, turning it in the light, watching the fiery “wings” move inside the stone. 

“So he proposed?” Hattie asked.

“In a manner of speaking. He said he wasn’t asking me, but to let him know when I’m ready.”

“He sounds like a good man,” Hattie said. 

“He is,” Venus said wistfully, tucking the ring back down into her bodice. 

“So why is it complicated?”

“I’ve never been married, so I fear I may be too set in my ways now,” Venus replied. 

“Well, I never say never,” Hattie remarked as she shaped Venus’ nails with the file. “I believe there’s someone for everyone, and when you meet them, you just know.”

“Love at first sight?” Venus said, and laughed. “I’ve seen enough of life and men to know that’s a folly.”

“Call me a hopeful romantic then,” Hattie said, and Venus was silent for a little while. She thought back to the night she and Henry first met, just a month ago. She remembered the butterflies in her stomach and the warmth of his hand, the look in his eyes and the way he’d swallowed hard when she’d simply put her hand on his arm. She remembered lying awake in bed that night, his image floating behind her eyelids as she tried to fall asleep. What really was ‘love at first sight’? And is that what she and Henry had experienced? She didn’t think she’d ever been in real love before, so how would she know? Either way, she thought, she was deeply attracted to him now, and he to her, and maybe she could allow herself a few moments being a hopeful romantic. It was certainly more pleasant than being cynical. 

“Hattie,” Venus began, deciding to change the subject. “Do you know of any doctors that treat women?”

“You mean the illegal kind?” Hattie whispered.

“No, the regular kind, but that are good with women’s health.” 

“No, not really,” the girl shrugged. “Why, Miss? Are you ill?”

“No, I’m just looking for recommendations in case I ever need someone,” Venus explained. Finding a good and discrete doctor for her girls was a top priority. Frankly, she wished she could help every woman who had come to her for employment over the years, even if she couldn’t hire them all. Some needed more than just medical help; years of rough living had left many applicants without decent clothing or marketable skills, and some were even illiterate. The power of presentation was Venus’ stock and trade, and it was something she believed every woman should find a way to harness for herself. 

The conversation stalled while Hattie worked, and Venus sighed, forced her shoulders to relax, and closed her eyes. Hattie had learned a bit of hand massage from a Chinese manicurist, and Venus let the gentle strokes carry her away for a few moments. 

“Excuse me.” Venus turned toward the voice, finding the black-haired woman standing next to her, and Venus instantly recognized her from the newspaper stories she’d read. “Sorry to barge in,” the woman apologized. “Miss Phryne Fisher.” She held out her hand and Venus dried her free hand on a nearby towel and shook hands. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Fisher,” Venus said with practiced calm covering her sudden wariness. “Venus DeRosier. How may I help you?”

“Actually, I think I might be able to help you,” Miss Fisher said.

“Really? How so?” Venus suppressed a sly smile wondering just what a socialite Lady Detective would offer a Madam, if Miss Fisher even knew who she was, which she might if she was as closely involved with that detective as the papers claimed. 

“I heard you say you’re looking for a good doctor, and I know just the woman,” Miss Fisher said. 

“Woman?” Venus asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Yes, Doctor Elizabeth MacMillan,” Miss Fisher handed Venus a card with the doctor’s name and number hand written on it. “She’s excellent with women’s health issues and is extremely discrete.”

“That’s good to know,” Venus nodded. “Thank you very much.” 

“No problem at all,” Miss Fisher said. “I’m always happy to connect women with the help they need. My number is on the other side, so feel free to call if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Venus turned the card over to see Miss Fisher’s official business calling card with address and phone number. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Fisher,” she said. 

“Good, well, it was lovely to meet you,” Miss Fisher said. “Maybe I’ll see you here again sometime. Good day, Miss DeRosier.”

“Miss Fisher,” Venus acknowledged, and with a swirl of red silk, Miss Fisher spun on her heel and left the salon. Venus also noticed a familiar scent in that swirl - Miss Phryne Fisher wore the same French perfume as Venus herself. What a coincidence. 

Venus looked at the card again before tucking it into her purse, and wondered if it was a trick of some sort to come in contact with Miss Fisher, and also how much of her conversation with Hattie the Lady Detective had heard, especially their discussion of Henry. She was thankful she never used Henry’s name but there was no doubt that whatever Miss Fisher heard would be relayed to her Detective Inspector paramour. Venus would have to be much more careful going forward. 

When Hattie was finally finished, Venus reached in her bag and handed the girl a £1 note, rolling her fingers over it with her own. “A little extra for you today, Hattie,” Venus said in a low voice. “To ensure that your ability to forget everything we’ve ever talked about is as good as your ability with a nail file.”

“Oh, yes, Miss,” Hattie whispered and nodded earnestly. 

“And if you happen to remember anything we’ve talked about and mention it to anyone else, I will forget what a wonderful job you do with my hands and mention that to EVERYone else. Understand?”

“Yes, Miss,” Hattie nodded again, more seriously this time. 

“And you have done a wonderful job today,” Venus said just a little louder than her regular voice. “My hands look so pretty and feel wonderful,” she smiled, and considered that she may have to hire Hattie on as Club Phoenix’s in-house beauty consultant now that the girl knew so much about her. 

“Thank you, Miss,” Hattie said with a proud smile. Venus thanked her in return and went to the front counter to pay. 

“I’m so happy you enjoyed your manicure, Miss DeRosier,” said the young proprietress, Minnie Cruise, as she rang up Venus’ charges. “If you’re interested in more, my mother, Melba, has a day spa in St. Kilda that offers skin care, massages, and various other health treatments.” She handed Venus a flyer printed on pink paper. Venus thanked her and left, catching the tram over to Albert Street. On a purely practical level, getting a manicure didn’t make much sense if she was going right back to work scrubbing and scraping and painting. But she wanted her hands to look nice for the first few days with her new ring. 

When she arrived at Club Phoenix, the crew was already hard at work fixing the floors, repairing plaster and reglazing a couple windows, and she greeted them and checked on their work. She walked into her office and put her bags on a chair, removed her coat, hat, and gloves, then went to stand by the window. She removed the chain holding the ring and slipped the ring off, letting the sunlight play through the stone. The intense beauty of it was even more dramatic in the sunlight than the lamplight on Henry’s desk. 

Thinking of Henry, and his genuine and steady affection, she slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. It fit better on that finger than any other, and she’d tried them all since last night. If she really were a romantic, she might take it as a sign. She’d always thought of herself as a pragmatist, however, doing what needed to be done to get where she wanted to be. Being with a man never figured into that equation. Now Henry was turning everything she knew about men and herself upside down. 

Henry wanted to marry her and no other man she’d known had ever made her a serious offer. Many had wanted her for her looks and the fantasy of being with a woman who knew how to pleasure a man, but none of them had seen past that to who she really was, much less still wanted her after they did. Henry was the first. And though he physically desired her as well, he didn’t insist, didn’t press her, and didn’t threaten to use his considerable power and influence against her if she didn’t. He treated her as an equal, respected and trusted her, and openly adored her. 

She’d never thought seriously about what she’d wanted in a man, other than the ability to pay her fee and not cause trouble. But she was thinking about it now, and she couldn’t think of better traits than respect, trust, and equality, and there was no question about their mutual desire. Is that really all it took? She knew women who married for less. 

“But those women often married for love,” she whispered as she gazed out the window. She’d often scoffed or downplayed romantic love, especially as a reason for marriage. She decided long ago that it was an old-fashioned notion at best, concocted in the Victorian era to go along with their florid poetry and cluttered decorating. Definitely not her style. Respect, trust, affection, and attraction: those were things she knew, could quantify, could rely on, and she had those with Henry and that was enough for her. She wouldn’t concern herself with something that seemed as filmy and idealized as love.

The loud bang of one of the men dropping a hammer out in the hallway startled her out of her reverie, and she gave her ring one last glance before slipping it back on the chain and tucking it back inside her dress. She sat down at her desk and went through some paperwork, more and more of it as the opening of Club Phoenix drew closer. Her phone line was finally operational, the electricity and plumbing were all in working order, and she happily wrote the remittance checks. One of the things she enjoyed about being a business owner was paying the bills, because it meant things were happening and there was money in the bank. It was still all expenses right now, and thanks to Henry’s investment she wouldn’t have to skimp, but soon enough there would be income, and that drove her through every step in the process. Soon enough, Melbourne wouldn’t know what hit it. 

++++

Henry looked over the bottle orders and invoices from the last couple weeks that Woody and Two-Bit had brought him, and noticed a disturbing pattern: Whenever two of an expensive bottle was ordered, usually an imported whiskey or champagne or a bootleg American Kentucky bourbon, one would be missing from the delivery invoice. He knew Two-Bit was as good as his word when it came to numbers, and Woody knew his inventory like the back of his hand. They were both good at what they did which was why Henry had hired them in the first place. That’s why the obvious missing bottles pointed straight to the supplier, not Henry’s men. 

He’d had to take on a new supplier after Annie left since she’d been the one to secure the business after Squizzy died, and that supplier would only do business with her. This new supplier had been clever with arrangements for bootleg products from America and Canada that were in high demand, but now it appeared he was helping himself to the shipments, bottle by bottle. Henry didn’t miss Squizzy one bit, but the little shit made good on his promises when it came to alcohol. There weren’t any more Squizzys around, so Henry would have to sort it out with the supplier himself, a task he was loath to do. If anything went wrong, he’d be left high and dry - literally - without booze. 

The other problem he had to deal with, not nearly as pressing but certainly concerning, was the theft of half his jewelry heist by an unknown element. He’d sent Grint and Kozzy out pounding the pavement to see if anyone had heard anything. He’d also tasked them with visiting every pawn shop every other day to see if anything turned up. The pawn brokers were more likely to talk to the jacks than to any gang members, but Kozzy was a top shelf eavesdropper so there was the possibility they’d turn up something. Henry himself would contact one or two other fences he knew, and as a last resort, he would call his gem cutters and to see if anything turned up there, but he wouldn’t make those calls until the end of the week. The theft from his heist couldn’t go unanswered, and whoever had done it was going to pay dearly - if he could figure out who it was. 

What was left from the heist was actually the best merchandise. He’d trained his men to put the higher priced items on the bottom for just this kind of situation. The trays of rings and a few trays of earrings and bracelets were spread out in front of him on his desk. He picked up the tray of opals and ran his thumb over the empty spot that had formerly held Venus’ ring. He had hoped to select a ring for her out of the take, but it had been a brilliant idea to let her pick it herself without even knowing. He’d never expected her to choose an opal, especially when there were large diamonds, sapphires and emeralds available, but her choice was inspired and he couldn’t deny the flaming beauty of the fluttering “wings” she’d discovered in the gem she’d dubbed “The Phoenix”. It suited her perfectly. 

He also hadn’t expected to let his long-range intentions be known last night, either, but the timing had been right, and he could no longer hold it in - there was no doubt she held his heart, whether she realized it or not. Her surprised reaction, the way she’d trembled against him, told him everything he needed to know: Her heart was his, as well, she simply needed time for her mind to catch up. But that was alright - Henry Stokes was a patient man. 

+++

“Jack!” Phryne greeted him in the foyer after work, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Guess who I met today?”

“Good evening to you, too, my love,” Jack quipped, handing off his coat and hat to Mr. Butler, then tucking an arm around her waist to reel her in for an exuberant kiss. 

“Well, you’re in a good mood tonight,” she said, a bit breathless. 

“Seems like we both are,” he replied, unable to keep from smiling, his good news pressing against his chest to escape.

“Then come sit down and we can tell each other everything,” she said, taking him by the elbow and leading him into the parlor where drinks were already waiting. 

“Okay, you first,” she said, once they were settled on the divan, drinks in hand.

“I spoke with Chief Commissioner Rogers this afternoon,” he began. 

“Did you,” Phryne said. “I take it from that smile you’re not in any hot water.”

“No, quite the opposite,” he said. “The senior officer promotions list came out today.”

“Superintendent?” Phryne’s eyes shot wide with thrilled surprise.

“At your service,” Jack lifted his glass toward her.

“Oh, Jack, that’s wonderful!” she gushed, almost spilling her drink in her haste to kiss him. “And it’s about damn time, too,” she added.

“Thank you,” he said. “Although it won’t be official for a few more weeks.”

“Will you have to transfer to Russell Street?” she asked. 

“No, they’re going to leave me at City South for the foreseeable future,” he said. “Not enough office space at headquarters, but,” he took a sip of his drink before relating the second part of the news. “The position comes with teaching a class at the academy, but that won’t start until the next batch of recruits in a few months.”

“How exciting,” she cooed. “You’ve been talking about how you’ve been wanting to do just that for a little while now.”

“I did put it in the paperwork I had to fill out, so they knew.”

“Well, considering how much I’ve learned from you, I can’t imagine the Victoria Police Force having a better instructor. What subject?”

“Crime Scene Evaluation,” he said.

“Oh, Jack, now you’re just making me jealous,” Phryne said.

“I was thinking I might call in an outside expert once in a while, if you know anybody,” he wagged his eyes at her, and she laughed.

“As long as you promise not to quote filthy Shakespeare over a corpse in front of your students, I think I know someone,” she said and he chuckled. “Oh, Jack, this is so exciting! I’ve been looking for an excuse to have a party and this is the perfect event to celebrate.”

“Since when do you need an excuse?” he teased her. 

“True, but I’ll take any excuse to celebrate you, darling,” she smiled and kissed him again.

“So what’s your news? Who did you meet?” he asked her. 

“Oh! Of course!” she said, remembering. “I met Melbourne’s newest madam at Minnie Cruise’s nail salon today: the striking and singular Venus DeRosier.”

“That is interesting,” Jack agreed.

“Your friend Mick is right, she is stunningly beautiful. The Jean Harlow of the Antipodes,” Phryne remarked. 

“Who?” Jack asked. 

“Oh, come on, Jack,” Phryne scoffed with frustration. “Jean Harlow is the most beautiful Hollywood starlet, and Venus DeRosier could be her sister.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Jack said. “So you just bumped into her at the salon?”

“Purely by coincidence, and she was sitting so close I could hear almost everything she said.”

“Any juicy tidbits?” He knew there would be, and he loved watching her when she was so animated.

“Loads,” Phryne swallowed the last of her whiskey and topped off her and Jack’s glasses. “She’s apparently been doing a lot of the renovation work on her new place herself, scrubbing, scraping and painting. That says a lot about the kind of person she is,” Phryne mused. “Her manicurist let slip that she’s been staying at the Windsor, but she plans to move into her club soon. AND, the piece de resistance?”

“Is what.”

“Henry Stokes proposed.” It was Phryne’s turn to wag her eyebrows at Jack.

“He did?” This would be quite the development, if true.

“Well, his name was not mentioned, but she said the man she’s been seeing gave her a very large ring last night, and told her to let him know when she’s ready.”

“Was she wearing the ring?” Jack asked.

“She had it on a chain around her neck and had to pull it out of her bodice to show the manicurist. Sadly, I couldn’t see it. All I know is her manicurist silenced the room when, upon seeing it, she exclaimed ‘crikey!’ for all of Collins Street to hear,” Phryne took a triumphant sip of her drink. “You see, Jack? I was right - Henry Stokes is in love with Madam DeRosier. And if my instincts are correct, she’s in love with him, as well.”

“Full marks, Miss Fisher,” Jack said, shifting into investigative mode. “But I’m wondering if you’d heard that Hardy Brothers Jewelers was robbed at knifepoint yesterday, in broad daylight.”

“No, I hadn’t had time to read the paper yet today.”

“The robbers had their faces covered, but the consensus is that it was a couple of Stokes’ boys. He’s currently the only one with the means to make that quantity of hot merchandise disappear.” 

“So you think Stokes knocked over a jewelry store rather than buy her a ring?”

“Stokes likes to stay behind the scenes and not attract a lot of attention,” Jack explained. “Maybe he just didn’t want to go out in public.”

“Robbing a jewelry store isn’t exactly staying behind the scenes.”

“Either way, it’s City Central’s case for now, and they don’t even have enough evidence for a search warrant yet. Stokes - or whoever it was - will make that jewelry disappear before we can catch him.”

“But you still don’t think it’s significant that Henry Stokes and Madam DeRosier are a romantic couple, do you,” Phryne said, eyeing him studiously. 

“Give me a reason to think it is,” Jack replied. He actually did think it was significant, but he couldn’t sort out why, so he was happy to let Phryne do all the theorizing. 

“Jack, according to your own research, Madam DeRosier had one of the top clubs in Sydney. She didn’t get there by being a bad business woman. She’s a hard worker, apparently very ‘hands on’, as they say,” she said, eyeing him over the rim of her glass.

“No pun intended?” Jack quipped.

“Oh, it was intended,” Phryne smirked. “The impression I got from meeting her today was that she is a self-made woman, and that’s something I can relate to. She had a bad time in Sydney, moves here, somehow gets connected with Stokes, and now they’re practically engaged. Two strong personalities, two shrewd business owners, there HAS to be something going on that’s more than just romance.”

“Stokes recently sold a warehouse down on the docks for over £3000,” Jack said. “How would that fit into your theory?”

“Of course, that’s it!” Phryne said. “He’s investing in her club.”

“But why?” Jack asked. 

“Men do all sorts of crazy things when they’re in love, Jack,” Phryne purred.

“Like traveling around the world, ending curses and solving murders?” he grinned.

“Just like that,” she smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venus moves in, Gemma is a smart cookie, and Henry investigates his own jewelry heist.  
> A bit of calm before a storm.  
> ++++

Moving day had finally arrived, two weeks after Henry’s non-proposal, and Venus was on pins and needles with excitement. She’d carefully designed her bedroom in white and gold with black accents, giving the appearance of a mythological Grecian salon. The signature piece was the canopy bed, with fluted ionic columns for posts, and the whole thing would soon be draped with several dozen yards of gauzy fabric. 

Henry had sent a few of his men over to help with the heavy lifting. She’d been buying and storing furnishings for the club in one of Henry’s warehouses and it took two truckloads to bring over the items for her suite. Once the large furniture pieces were delivered, she would bolt the door to the hallway and have one of her carpenters immobilize it, then cover the hallway side with a tapestry. 

She had Frenchy drive her to the Windsor in the truck to check out and collect her luggage, then over to another storage space where she had been keeping the rest of her wardrobe and belongings that had been secretly delivered from her safe house in Sydney. Four large steamer trunks in all, and she couldn’t wait to fill her new closet with the rest of her beautiful dresses that she’d stashed away before the fire. She’d had to leave many things behind to be burned in the fire, to defray suspicion, but once her doors were open for business she’d take herself on a little shopping spree. 

By lunchtime, everything had been moved in, and Venus made lemonade and sandwiches for Frenchy, Two-Bit and Snag, who gathered in the kitchen as if they’d been doing it for years. They shared bites of ham and cheese with Gin and Tonic, and ate everything Venus put in front of them. 

“I’m going to have to go to the market just to have toast for breakfast,” she declared. 

“I’ll go to the market for ya, Madam Venus,” Two-Bit offered, earning him the ribbing of the other two.

“Aren’t you sweet, Two-Bit,” she cooed, patting his cheek and he turned bright red as Frenchy and Snag continued to rag on him. “But I’ll take care of it later. You boys are excused for the day.” 

They all walked to the front where the truck was parked, and when Venus opened the door, a startled Gemma was just about to knock.

“Oi!” she said, taking in the four faces. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Gemma,” Venus greeted her with a smile. “Let me introduce you to my friends before they leave. I don’t know their actual names, but this is Two-Bit, Snag, and Frenchy. Gentlemen, this is Miss Gemma Smith, she’s a clerk next door in Mr. Prentiss’ law office.” The guys said hello and shook hands, except for Frenchy who kissed the back of her hand.

“Well, that’s quite an introduction,” Gemma said, stammering a bit under Frenchy’s intense gaze. Venus almost laughed out loud at the instant attraction between the two. What an interesting pair they might make. 

“All right, boys, off you go,” Venus shooed them out of the house and off the porch. “Tell Henry I’ll call him later.”

“Who’s Henry?” Gemma asked as Venus waved her into the foyer.

“Their boss,” Venus said. “I’d offer you something to eat, but they’ve cleared me out like a swarm of locusts.”

“No, that’s fine, I’ve eaten,” Gemma said. “But I did see a lot of furniture being delivered. Are you moved in now?”

“I am,” Venus smiled. “Wanna see my suite?”

“You bet! After all your descriptions I can only imagine how lovely it will be.” 

Venus led her down the hall to the rear door. “So far I’ve only added some furniture to this space,” she said, referring to her parlor/office, which Gemma had been in many times already. “As you can see, there’s still a lot of decorating to be done.”

“Love those matching wing chairs. Didn’t you tell me you thought this was a dining room before?”

“Originally, I think so, yes,” Venus said. “I found the chandelier down in the basement. I may eventually have it fixed and fitted with electricity, but not any time soon. Come this way.” She led Gemma past her desk, past the small bathroom that the funeral director had installed between the two rooms, and through to her boudoir. 

“Oh, Venus!” Gemma declared when she stepped into the room. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Like I said, there’s still a good amount of decorating to do, but I’m very pleased with how it came out. 

“This bed is fabulous,” Gemma added to her list of superlatives as she ran her hand up a fluted column post. “Will the whole house be decorated like this?”

“Most of the ‘public’ areas will be, yes.” Venus crossed her arms and looked carefully at her friend. “Gemma, I think it’s time we have a frank conversation about who and what I am.”

“What do you mean?” Gemma turned to her with a curious, but shrewd, expression. 

“Come sit at my desk with me,” Venus suggested and they went into the other room. Gin and Tonic came barreling in; Gin jumped up on Venus’ desk, scattering a few papers, and Tonic began curling around Gemma’s legs. Gemma picked up the little gray purr machine and snuggled him as she took a seat across from Venus. 

“Honestly, Gin,” Venus said, picking up the papers and removing the kitten. 

“So what’s going on?” Gemma said. 

“Why don't you tell me,” Venus said. “You’re an intelligent woman, which is one of the reasons I wanted to get to know you. So I’m wondering if you’ve figured out what this place is actually going to be.”

Gemma’s slow-forming smile proved Venus’ assumption was correct. “Until this afternoon, I was eighty-percent certain this is going to be a gentlemen’s club,” Gemma said. 

“Only eighty?” Venus raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, boarding house and private girls school also came to mind, but seeing the Greek Courtesan decor in your bedroom fairly cinched it for me, Madam DeRosier.”

Venus smiled at Gemma’s use of her professional name. “How did you figure it out?”

“Well, I knew you had to have some money if you were able to afford all these renovations,” Gemma began. “And you are the least chatty woman I’d ever met, not sharing any specific details about your history, so when you mentioned you’d moved here from Sydney, I called a friend there who is also a law clerk. I asked her if she knew of a wealthy woman named Venus who may have left Sydney recently. A few days later, she called me back and told me your name and what happened to the Black Dahlia.”

“So how long have you known?”

“A couple weeks,” Gemma said. “But I kept it to myself since you weren’t sharing any details, and I didn’t want you to think I was going behind your back.”

“But you did,” Venus said.

“Mere curiosity. But even before then, I had a hunch since you were being so mysterious about it. I figured either you’d tell me yourself, or we’d all figure it out once you opened for business.”

“No, it won’t be a secret then,” Venus said. “So, you told me you’re almost finished with your clerkship, how soon after that until you can take on your own clients?”

“In a few months, after I’m admitted to the bar.”

“Excellent,” Venus replied. “Do you plan to stay with Mr. Prentiss after that?”

“Possibly. I do have other offers.”

“I’m going to be looking for a good solicitor of my own soon,” Venus said. “If you stayed with Mr. Prentiss, would he have a problem with one of his staff working with the type of business I will be running?”

“Mr. Prentiss is a criminal defense barrister. He’s familiar with all sides of town,” Gemma said evenly. “He hopes to be a King’s Counsel some day, as do I. Everyone deserves excellent representation at court.”

“Well, then,” Venus said. “Please let me know when your elevation to the bar is official. You’ll have a client ready and waiting for your services.”

“That is exactly the motivation I need to finish my clerkship with flying colors,” Gemma said, and the women smiled at each other. “May I ask you an unrelated question?” Gemma added. 

“Of course.”

“Do you know any more about the men who were leaving when I arrived?” she asked, a hopeful twinkle in her gray-green eyes. 

“Such as?” Venus raised an eyebrow in her direction. 

“The one who kissed my hand, Frenchy,” she said. “What do you know about him?”

“He’s the driver and seems to be a decent bloke,” Venus replied. “There was a spark between you two, wasn’t there.”

“Quite,” Gemma said, her cheeks turning pink. “But I need to know,” she hesitated. “Who is Henry, their boss?”

“Henry is my business partner,” Venus said. “Investor, really. But I’m unable to divulge any more information about him at this time.”

“Is he the tall, well-dressed man with the fancy beard that I see stopping by once in a while?”

“Perhaps,” Venus hedged, wondering where Gemma was going with this. 

“It’s Henry Stokes, the gangster, isn’t it,” Gemma said, a note of disappointment in her tone. 

“You are a quick study, aren’t you,” Venus said, getting up and pouring each of them a finger of whiskey. Gemma suddenly looked like she needed it. 

“Damnit,” Gemma sighed as she took a sip. “A lawyer can’t have sparks with a gang member,” she grumbled. 

“Why not?” Venus asked. “Frenchy is a very nice bloke, honest, works hard, safe driver…,”

“I could be disbarred before I even reach the bar,” Gemma said.

“I doubt that,” Venus said. “I tell you what, Henry and I have dinner a few nights a week at his establishment in Richmond to discuss business. Why don’t you come with me. Frenchy usually picks me up around five-thirty, dinner is at six-thirty. We can even stay and gamble a little if you like.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t be seen gambling,” Gemma waved Venus off. 

“Who is going to see you?” Venus asked, but Gemma just took a sip of her drink. “Alright, then don’t gamble. Just have a few drinks with Frency and see what happens.”

“Maybe,” Gemma said. 

Venus cocked her head and took a different tack. “Have you heard of Judge Reinhart? King’s Counsel McKinnon? Some fancy solicitor named Glenn Martin Tuck?”

“Well, of course, they’re some of the best legal minds in Victoria,” Gemma said. 

“They’re all regulars at Henry Stokes’ casino,” Venus stated. “Sly-grog drinkers, the lot of ‘em. And Tuck is a whiz at Roulette.” Gemma’s stunned expression made Venus shake her head. “Look, Gemma, you’re still a little green, but you’re smart, and you’ve already seen, via Mr. Prentiss’ client list, that there is a whole world between very good and very bad. The law may seem cut and dried, black and white, but humans are not. We are all shades of gray. The fact is, you’ll be more likely to jeopardize your position at the bar by driving too fast than by having a drink at Henry Stokes’ casino.”

“If I had a car,” Gemma sighed. 

“Well, once you start collecting your own fees, then buy yourself one. In the meantime, come have dinner and drinks with me at Henry’s.”

“When?”

“Tonight.” 

Gemma finished her whiskey and set her glass down with a thunk. “Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll probably regret it, but alright.”

“You won’t regret it. Be here a little before five-thirty,” Venus said, and walked Gemma back to the front door.

++++

“Good news, Boss,” Kozzy said as he and Grint entered Henry’s office.

“What’s that,” Henry didn’t look up from the ledger he was pouring over, analyzing the last week’s gambling takes. 

“One of the rings from the heist showed up in a pawn shop in Collingwood,” Kozzy said. “And another one in Carlton.”

Henry looked up and narrowed his eyes at them. “How can you be sure?”

“Both pawn brokers described the kid who brought them in the same way,” Grint asserted.

“But we didn’t have a description, unless you two lied to me,” Henry challenged, instantly deflating their conviction.

“They described his coat - a dark red with brown patches on the elbows,” Kozzy explained.

“Was he wearing that when he robbed you?”

“No, but -”

“So how do you know it’s the same person?” The volume of Henry’s voice rose in equal measure with his frustration.

“The brokers showed us the rings,” Grint said quickly. “I recognized one of them from the heist - a big sapphire with rubies and diamonds around it. Red, white, and blue - like the flag, I remember thinking.”

That made more sense, and Henry’s curiosity was piqued. “Did they give you a description of the seller?”

“Sandy hair, blue eyes, thin mouth, young - early twenties,” Grint said. 

“Sound like anyone we know?”

“Not really, could be anyone.”

“Well, not anyone,” Henry said. “But that’s a lot more than we had to go on a week ago. Good work, gentlemen, but you still need to find this kid. Keep checking the pawn shops - if he’s hocked jewelry there once or twice, he’ll do it again. But now you need to start looking into the younger gangs. See if any of their members meets the description. I want to find this kid.”

“Yes, sir,” Grint said, and both nodded.

“You know, boss,” Kozzy said, rubbing his chin. “What we’re doin’, askin’ questions and trackin’ down this kid, it’s kind of like police work, innit?” 

Henry stared hard at him for a moment, then let out a big, boisterous laugh. “Now wouldn’t that beat all? A couple drongos like you two beating the jacks at their own game.” He laughed again while Grint and Kozzy just stood there looking sheepishly at each other. “All right, get back out there,” Henry barked. “Find that kid.”

“Yes, boss,” they said and hustled out of the office, just as the phone started to ring. 

“Stokes here,” he answered. 

“DeRosier here,” came a familiar voice through the line, albeit lowered an octave to sound official. A wave of relaxation washed over him and he leaned back in his chair, chuckling at her impersonation of him.

“Good afternoon, Madam,” he grinned. “How do you do?”

“I am just apples,” she sighed. “Thanks to the brawny assistance of Snag, Frenchy and Two-Bit, I am lying across my new bed on my new Egyptian cotton sheets with my head on a fluffy new feather pillow, and I might as well be floating on a cloud…” she trailed off dreamily. Henry closed his eyes and imagined what she described. She hadn’t mentioned what she was wearing, but in his mind her naked body stretched luxuriously across the bed. 

“Is there room for two on that cloud?” he asked, adding his own naked body to his mental image. 

“Definitely,” she cooed. “It’s certainly more comfortable than a certain divan.”

“I can imagine,” he said, already imagining plenty, and now his mind was right back between her thighs. Henry’s groin twitched as his cock swelled, and he crossed his legs and fought the urge to touch himself, in his office, in the middle of the afternoon. 

“I’m sure you can,” she purred with a soft chuckle. The pencil he’d been holding somehow managed to snap in half in his hand, startling him back to the present. 

“Venus,” he said, clearing his throat. “I thought you told me you weren’t going to have a phone in your bedroom?” 

“I don’t,” she said, simply. “I’m actually sitting at my desk in my office,” she added, as if she hadn’t just given him a raging boner over the phone. He gulped and shifted in his seat, trying to turn the bull back into the barn. Her sway over him was total, and a few words in the right tone sent him spinning. But he didn’t mind, and he would never accuse her. He’d never admit to such a weakness, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it. 

“Well, I’m glad everything went well with those blokes,” he said, lighting himself a cigar, if only to give his hands something to do. 

“Perfectly, thank you,” she said. “May I ask another favor?”

“You know you can ask me anything,” he said. 

“May I bring a friend to dinner tonight?”

“What kind of friend?”

“Miss Gemma Smith, the law clerk from next door.”

“A lawyer?”

“She’s not a lawyer yet,” Venus said. “But I’m considering retaining her as my personal solicitor once she’s admitted to the bar in a few months.”

“Why tonight?”

“Why not?” When he didn’t answer right away, she continued. “Besides, I think she and Frenchy may have hit it off earlier, and she’d like to see him again.”

“Frenchy?” Henry said, startled. “And a lawyer?”

“Stranger things have happened,” she replied. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter to me, bring whomever you like,” Henry said. “As long as it’s not a cop or a proddy preacher.” 

“Thank you,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. 

“Now, I need a favor from you,” he said.

“Of course, Henry.”

“Wear that light blue dress again,” he said. “The one you wore the first time I kissed you.”

There was a slight hesitation and Henry wondered if he’d been too bold to suggest such a thing. “I can certainly do that,” she said, her voice quieter. “Are you keeping track?” she recovered, teasing him.

“I know what I like,” he replied. 

“And you have excellent taste,” she bantered, and he laughed out loud. 

+++

“Do you think it’s too soon to start seeing someone again?” Gemma asked Venus while they waited for Frenchy to arrive to pick them up for dinner. She was nervously twisting the fringe on her black velvet wrap, and her dark green watered silk dress shimmered as she vibrated with anticipation.

“How long has it been?” Venus asked, not really caring but hoping it would calm Gemma down to let her talk. The younger woman was antsy, pacing the foyer and bouncing on her toes. 

“Just before you started renting here,” Gemma said. “You met Eddie that one day,” she continued. “He came by during lunch to give me that pair of gloves I’d left at his place ages ago.”

“Ah, yes,” Venus remembered the young man. He’d seemed a bit skittish, and if her hunch was right, the erratic mannerisms and runny nose were sure signs of a cocaine addiction. “Edwin, right? What was his last name?”

“Spencer,” Gemma said. 

“Didn’t you say his father worked for the City government or something?”

“Police Detective, at City Central precinct,” Gemma said. Venus bit her lips together to hide her reaction. She’d met Eddie Spencer before his father’s name had come up at dinner with Madam Lyon, but it was a common enough last name not to mean anything at the time. She was, however, grateful that her friend - and soon to be lawyer - was not involved with the son of the Detective that Henry had it out for. 

“And what field was Eddie going into?”

“He was on track to finish his clerkship the same time as I am, but he’s had a bit of personal trouble lately and won’t finish until next year it seems.”

“Is that why you two broke it off?”

“I broke it off,” Gemma clarified. “We were law school sweethearts, but neither of us was interested in getting married any time soon because we were both so focused on being lawyers. But the pressure of school was getting to Eddie and he was making some bad decisions, and I couldn’t have that distraction.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Venus said. 

“It has been. I care about him, and wish him well, but I don’t miss having to deal with him,” Gemma explained, then a short honk from the street sounded and the women looked up. 

“That’s Frenchy now,” Venus said, and Gemma visibly gulped. “You look beautiful, so relax and enjoy yourself.”

Frenchy parked the car right in front of the club and Venus noticed that it looked freshly washed. Frenchy hopped out, looking freshly washed himself, his hair was pomaded neatly and his crisp, dark suit appeared freshly pressed. 

“Miss Smith, Madam DeRosier,” Frenchy greeted them with a tip of his hat. He held his elbow out to Gemma to help her into the car and the two of them locked eyes for a breathless moment. To his credit, Frenchy kept his cool, and Venus knew then that Gemma was in for a difficult time if she was hoping to only dip her toe in the water and then walk away. Venus predicted Gemma would be diving in and fully submerged before the week was out.

“You’re looking dashing this evening, Frenchy,” Venus whispered as he handed her in to the vehicle after Gemma.

“Thank you, madam,” he bowed slightly and gave her a knowing smile. He climbed in behind the wheel and quickly whisked them away from Albert Street to that den of temptation known as Stokes Enterprises.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it too good to last? Too good to be true?  
> Mistakes are made and the storm arrives without warning.  
> +++

“So what do you think?” Venus asked, leaning back into Henry’s shoulder. He was standing behind her barstool and they were watching Gemma and Frenchy drink and smile and laugh across the room. Well, at least Venus was; Henry seemed more interested in whispering filthy things into her ear while trying to cop a feel as his hand slid slowly up her rib cage toward her breast.

“I think I’d like to take you home and devour you all night,” he rumbled into her hair. 

Venus rolled her eyes. “No, about Gemma and Frenchy,” she clarified, but didn’t try to stop his advances, which became less inhibited with each glass of whiskey. 

Henry looked up at the other couple for a moment and shrugged. “As long as Frenchy keeps doing his job, it’s fine by me. Seems like you’re a good matchmaker, though.”

“All I did was open the door,” Venus replied. “They’re doing the rest.”

“Sometimes, that’s all it takes, seeing an open door and walking through it.”

“Aren’t you the philosophical one,” she turned to look curiously at him.

“In vino veritas, or some French shit, right?” He took another sip of his drink.

“That’s whiskey, not ‘vino’, and the quote is in Latin not French, but sure - get drunk, speak truth,” she said, tapping her glass to his.

“Don’t be snobby with me when I’m trying to seduce you,” Henry pretended to grouse, and she laughed. 

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” she bantered. 

“Is it working?”

“Probably not in the way you’re expecting,” she replied.

“You women are so complicated,” he sighed.

“I’m not complicated, Henry,” she said. “I’m discerning.”

“Then discern this,” he said, finally sliding his hand up over her breast while pressing his mouth to her neck for a tantalizing nibble. Venus’ nether regions sizzled and she inhaled sharply. Henry chuckled against her skin.

“Take me home with you tonight,” he rasped into her ear. “Let’s christen that new bed of yours.”

“Not tonight, Henry,” she whispered, pushing his hand down from her breast to her waist. She turned to face him and gave him a small kiss. “Patience.” His response was a sigh and a frustrated growl. Venus sighed, too. His proposal certainly had merit, but even madams have that time of the month.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he collected her right hand in his and started playing with her ring, running his thumb over it. She’d gone ahead and worn it on her right hand tonight, deciding she would do so whenever she was with him. Henry had smiled broadly when he’d seen it, and a silent “someday” was shared in the way they’d looked at each other. Hope for the future was certainly something she wouldn’t take for granted.

On the ride home, Two-Bit sat in back with Venus, headed for his overnight security job per Henry’s insistence, and Gemma sat up front with Frenchy, even resting her head on his shoulder. Venus smiled from the back seat, expecting several long conversations with her young friend about how to reconcile her budding relationship with a gangster while being a lawyer. Frenchy drove Gemma to her flat in Abbotsford, walked her to the door and kissed her goodnight on the cheek. 

“Well, you two have certainly hit it off,” Venus said when Frenchy was back in the car.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned at her via the rear view mirror. “But she is a bit hesitant, considering who I work for.”

“She’ll have to sort that out in her own mind,” Venus said. “But once you’re on the same page, then the two of you can sort out the rest together.”

“Is that what you and Mr. Stokes do, ma’am? Sort it out together?”

Venus chuckled to herself and nodded. “Yes, Frenchy. That’s what we do.”

“I hope it’s not improper for me to say, ma’am, but I’m glad you’re here, in Melbourne,” Frenchy said. “Mr. Stokes was in a bad place when Mrs. Stokes left. It took a long time for him to shake it.”

“Is that so?” Venus asked, intrigued.

“S’truth. He’s much happier now you’re here,” Frenchy said and Two-Bit agreed.

“Well, I suppose I should be flattered.”

“Yes, ma’am. But please don’t tell him I told you so.”

“No, I wouldn’t say anything,” Venus assured him. “What’s your real name, Frenchy?”

“Francois duPont,” Frenchy said with a decidedly French accent. “My parents own House of duPont fashion salon in Collins Street.”

“How did you end up working for Mr. Stokes?”

“I drove a cab,” Frenchy explained, switching back to his Australian accent. “Used to drive Mum and Dad’s clients to and from the salon during the day, and trolled the theater district at night. Gave Mr. Stokes a ride home from the Tiv one night and he asked me if I wanted a full-time job as his driver. Been with him for five years.”

“It doesn’t bother you or your parents that you’re working for someone like Mr. Stokes?”

“Nah. He doesn’t make me rob jewelry stores or anything like that, but the pay is steady, and I’m saving a lot of money since he paid off my cab for me,” Frenchy patted the steering wheel. “Someday I want to have my own fleet of cabs, driving rich people around.”

“Sounds like a great ambition,” Venus smiled as they pulled up in front of her club, her home, her own ambition. 

“Good night, Madam Venus,” Frenchy said as he helped her out of the car. 

“Good night, Frenchy. And thank you again for the ride.” He tipped his hat and got back in the car, but waited for her to unlock her door before driving off. 

“And what’s your real name, Two-Bit?” she asked as he bolted the door from the inside.

“Johnny Ripley, ma’am,” he said. “They called me Two-Bit cuz I was the younger brother and kinda small.”

“Well, you’ve certainly eaten all your vegetables since then,” she smiled at him, his hulking form belying his diminutive start in life. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled sheepishly. 

“Thank you for being willing to do this, Two-Bit,” she said. “There are a couple comfortable chairs in that room there, and you’re free to have a snack or two from the kitchen if you need it,” she offered. He thanked her and they said goodnight, and she headed to her suite.

A sense of peace and relaxation came over Venus as she walked into her new bedroom. She changed into her silk pyjamas and sat at her vanity to take off her makeup, smiling as she thought of Henry and his remark about christening her new bed. It seemed that every moment she wasn’t consciously thinking about something else, her mind went straight to him. The thought of bringing him home with her permanently - an idea that popped into her mind regularly - was something she’d flatly refused to consider, however - until tonight. Until she was alone in her new suite and wishing he were with her. It was an idea that struck her as both obvious and potentially dangerous. Obvious because, despite her intentions to the contrary, she needed him as much as she wanted him, and she wanted to be with him all the time. His intention to marry her meant that they would live under the same roof, and since he didn’t have his own home anymore, it made sense that she would ask him to move in.

The dangerous part was that she was, in fact, going to be running a business where her employees’ job descriptions included flirting with and having sex with any man who came through the door. She was fairly certain she could trust Henry in that regard, but she had no idea if she would be able to trust her employees. Girls who became hostesses at gentlemen's clubs tended to have an opportunistic streak, and would see great sport and benefit in seducing the boss’s man. She would have to think long and hard about that arrangement if it came to it. 

The other option was to buy a separate home for the two of them, but that seemed like a waste of money, and Venus couldn’t see herself living anywhere but her club - especially not with the beautiful bedroom she’d created for herself. 

She looked down at her ring, caressing it with her thumb as Henry had earlier, and contemplated the commitment it represented. Wearing it tonight - on her right hand - had told him she was exclusively his, and she was happier than she expected to be with that arrangement. She wanted Henry in her life, that was for certain, and it wasn’t a decision she took lightly. But after what Frenchy had told her tonight, she didn’t want to be Henry’s lover simply because he had been lonely. Yes, Frenchy, there was much to sort out. 

+++

“What the hell, Henry!” Venus stormed into his office in the middle of the afternoon, marched right up to his desk and slapped a bank statement down on top of the ledger he was working on. Just two nights ago they had been getting steamed up from flirting and kissing at the bar, but the steam coming out of her ears now was of an entirely different sort.

“What do you mean, what the hell?” He’d never seen her angry before, and it startled him.

“I called the bank today to check the balance in the club account and it was down under £2000! There was over £4000 in it just last week! They said there’d been a withdrawal of £2500 the other day.” She jabbed her finger at the statement from the bank. “Where’s the money, Henry?”

“Aw, shit,” Henry’s stomach sank realizing what had happened. “Venus, let me explain.”

“You damn well better,” she seethed. “Because last time I looked, we both deposited £3000 to that account, so about £1200 of that money is mine.”

“I was going to tell you the other night and forgot,” he began, trying to remain calm in the face of her heated accusation. 

“Would that have been before or after you took the money?” 

Henry sighed. 

“So after then,” she said, crossing her arms. “So you failed to discuss the withdrawal with me before you did it, and then you forgot to mention it before I found out about it so you could talk your way out of it. Does that about cover it?”

“Do you want me to explain or not?” he shot back, standing up.

She huffed a breath but kept her arms crossed. “Go on.”

“I’m starting a new enterprise,” he began, as calmly as possible. “I needed the seed money and had to move quickly, and I didn’t want it to come from my regular accounts because the police have someone on the inside at the banks watching for irregular transactions.”

“What new enterprise?” she narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought my club was your new enterprise.”

“It is my most important enterprise,” he insisted. “But this is more of a branching out of my established gambling enterprise.” He was spinning now, trying to smooth back her ruffled feathers. 

“Well, keep going,” she insisted. “I need to know what £1200 of my money is going toward.”

“I’ve purchased a steam yacht for an offshore gambling casino.” Frustratingly, his voice didn’t even sound confident and accomplished in his own ears. 

“A boat, Henry,” she glared at him. “You bought a boat.”

“It’s a yacht and it’s going to be a huge money spinner. I told you the jacks were sniffing around at my new baccarat location last week, and I need to move it. So I’m moving it to the yacht and we’ll sail out into the middle of the bay where the jacks can’t get to us. Once I sell that building and move the baccarat to the yacht, I’ll replace the money in the club account.”

“How soon are you selling that building?”

“I haven’t even had time to list it, yet.”

“Get it sold, Henry,” she growled and pointed a finger at him. “Get it sold fast, or I will find a way to take you to court for my £1200.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he cajoled.

“Oh, yes I would. And I would sell that opal ring to pay my legal fees.”

“What are you saying?” he retorted, his hand instinctively moving to his middle in response to the emotional gut kick of her words.

“I’m saying that I thought we had an agreement, that I thought you respected me, and that we were going to work together and discuss everything,” she said, her voice cracking. “You wanted me to trust you. Well, I did, but that was my decision, and it took a lot of thought and soul searching. I chose to trust you, and you’ve chosen to prove me wrong.”

“Venus,” he entreated, coming around from behind his desk, his hand out to her. She backed away, holding her palm up to stop him and sniffing back her liquid anger. 

“Don’t, Henry,” she ordered, and he stopped. “I’m giving you one chance to fix it as quickly as you can. But it’s not about the money.”

“I know it’s not, and I’m terribly sorry.” It sounded feeble and ineffective, but what else could he say?

“Just make it right,” she said, her voice constrained to a whisper now. “And let me know when you do.” She spun on her heel and left, and Henry had never felt lower in his life. 

+++

Venus hustled away from Henry’s place and around a corner as quickly as she could. She ducked under the shade of a tree at the corner of a laneway behind a nice home, pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and cried. She’d held it in from the moment the bank representative had explained about the withdrawal, and now that she’d confronted Henry about it she could release her pent-up emotions. Or some of them anyway. She tried not to make a lot of noise, so as not to attract any attention. She dried her eyes after a few minutes, knowing there would be a longer bout of tears later, when she was home, but for now, the pressure had been released and she needed a distraction. She swept on a pale pink lipstick and fished a pair of dark sunglasses from her bag, squared her shoulders and walked to Bridge Street to catch a tram downtown. Some shoe shopping in Bourke Street should take her mind off it for a little while. 

+++

Henry waited for a few minutes to be sure she was out of the building before letting loose with an enormous roar that arose from deep in his gut and shook the sconces on the wall. With another roar he swept everything off his desk, sending it all crashing to the floor. He pressed the heels of his hands to his stinging eyes in an effort to prevent them from filling with hot, furious emotion. 

“Mr. Stokes, is everything all right?” came the tentative voice of Chef John from around the curtain. 

“What do you think!” Henry bellowed at him. “Leave me alone!” Chef John retreated and Henry started pacing, but it wasn’t enough. His anger boiled in his gut, right where her heartbreaking kick had landed, and he had never felt so stupid in all his life. He grabbed a glass and his decanter of whiskey and retreated to his secret office and slammed the door. 

He downed two shots in quick succession, the alcohol leaving a caustic path down his already burning throat. He paced the small room, burning a path in the rug. What the hell, Henry, indeed. How did he allow himself to get suckered into that deal so quickly that he would put his own greed over Venus’ trust and jeopardize everything with her? He had become cocky, and that was never a wise position from which to make a business deal. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry with himself before. Oh, he’d raged at his men often, at Squizzy on occasion, even at Annie in the throes of their divorce, and he’d been mad at himself for overdoing it with the flowers he sent to Venus all those weeks ago, but he hadn’t known her very well then. He knew her much better now, knew her fears and soft spots, especially when it came to trust. He should have fucking known better. All he had to do was pick up the damn phone, but instead he spun the wheel on a 50-50 chance and lost. 

He growled and poured himself another shot, threw it back and flopped down on the divan - the same divan where, not long ago, they had tasted each other's secret flesh and satisfied each other's needs for the first time. His heart and body ached at the memory, and the thought that it may only have happened twice - that he had yet to give himself to her fully and now he may never get the chance - raised a giant lump in his throat. He’d barely begun to show her how much she meant to him, and now it may all be over, thanks to his reckless arrogance. 

When he and Annie were newlyweds, she had once accused him of being hot-headed and mercurial, of swinging too quickly from one emotion to the other. She’d helped him tame his anger and frustration, and shown him how to instill fear and obedience with a scowl instead of a tirade, and the doc said it was better for his heart. Eventually the wisdom of age allowed him to see that he didn’t have to take everything personally and he learned to pick his battles. He’d never had to do battle with himself, however. Not like this. 

He couldn’t lose Venus. Losing Annie had stripped him bare, and putting on a brave face every day had been torture, until he’d become numb and the pain was reduced to a dull ache. The arrival of Venus had been a sudden heat wave for his cold heart, and he finally felt alive again. Hell, maybe he was a damned romantic after all, and Venus was bringing it out in him in all its complicated shades. 

He sighed and took another long sip of whiskey, the liquor doing its job of mellowing his mood and dissipating the anger. He closed his eyes and Venus’ image appeared in his mind’s eye - a smiling, laughing vision of warmth and light. The first time he’d seen her, sitting at his bar, martini in one hand, cigarette in the other, her hair a golden halo around her head, he’d stopped short and stared, forgetting to breathe. Whatever force of the universe that had brought her into his bar that night was telling him she was the one. He hadn’t believed it then, but he believed it now. 

And now he may have ruined everything. He hung his head as sadness swept over him, a heavy sob shook his body and a few tears dropped to the carpet between his feet. Bloody hell, he was forty-five years old and the Crime King of Melbourne, and he was NOT going to cry. He blew his nose and slugged back the last of his whiskey as his mind started to clear. He couldn’t lose her. He’d bought her a pair of kittens for God’s sake; gangsters don’t buy kittens, he chided himself. But he didn’t feel like a gangster when he was with her - he was just Henry. And despite his flaws, she kept coming around, although that may change after today. 

She’d given him clear instructions: Fix it. Now. He didn’t know if that would bring her back or not, but even if it didn’t, he owed it to her to make it right. Determination filled his veins and he stood up, splashed cold water on his face and shook off his bad mood. Pity parties didn’t solve anything, action did, and he knew exactly what actions he needed to take next. 

++++

An hour after leaving Henry’s, Venus was sitting in the shoe store, surrounded by beautiful footwear and doted on by a handsome and attentive young salesman called Sam. She was discreetly flirting with him and he was taking it in stride, not in the least abashed by her suggestions and replying with his own subtle innuendos and knowing smiles. It was obvious she was not the first female customer to ply him with her attentions. It was harmless and fun and a great distraction, and Venus decided to bring her business to him regularly. 

“So which shoes are you going to buy, or are you just here for Sam’s excellent service?” asked an older woman who’d been trying on shoes across the store. Venus had noticed her watching earlier, but as with most people who watched her, she ignored it. Now that Sam was helping another customer while Venus decided what shoes to buy, the older woman was sitting near her and giving her a sly smile. 

“I think I’m going to take the red patent leather t-straps and the black satin pumps,” Venus said. “Sam’s customer service skills are certainly a bonus, aren’t they?”

“Indeed,” she said, then held out her hand. “Lucille Turner, how do you do?”

“Venus DeRosier,” she said, shaking hands. “Lovely to meet you.”

“I really don’t need any new shoes,” Lucille went on. “But my husband was being difficult this morning and we had a bit of a row, so here I am. Shoe shopping always makes me feel better.”

“What a coincidence,” Venus replied, charmed by the instant connection. “My man and I had a bad argument earlier, too, and I ended up here as well.”

“Not married yet, though?” Lucille asked, glancing at Venus’ left hand. The opal was on its chain, tucked into her bodice. 

“No,” Venus sighed. “Not yet. He wants to be, though, but I found out today that he’d broken my trust.”

“Another woman?” Lucille asked sadly.

“No, nothing like that,” Venus said. “It was about money.”

“Ah, yes. I believe more couples argue over money than anything else.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Venus nodded. “But,” she hesitated, clearing her throat to quell her emotions. “He’s a good man,” she asserted, to herself more than to Lucille. “I’m hoping everything will be fine soon. I’m just very angry with him right now.”

“I understand, darling, and I’m sure it will,” Lucille said, patting her arm. “Or things could get quite expensive,” she waved her hand at all the shoes sitting on the floor around Venus’ feet.

Venus laughed. “Indeed. But it wasn’t just about money; I thought I trusted him, but now I’m not so sure. I haven’t trusted a lot of people in my life, and he was one of the few I have, until today.”

“If he really wants to marry you,” Lucille said, “he’ll learn this lesson well and never break your trust again. And if you want to marry him, then you’ll help him rebuild that trust.”

“How long have you been married?” Venus asked her, changing the subject to avoid entertaining the idea of trusting Henry again, even if he did repay the money.

“Thirty years,” she said. “It’s not all sunshine and roses, of course,” she added. “But if you work at it, treat each other with kindness, respect and good humor, you can build a wonderful life together.”

“You still think that’s possible?”

“I see it everyday,” Lucille said. 

“I noticed you didn’t mention love,” Venus probed.

“Well, that goes without saying, doesn’t it?” Lucille winked and patted Venus on the arm again. “Now, don’t let that good man of yours stew in his regret for too long. Give him the gift of forgiveness as soon as you can.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” Venus said. 

“Enjoy your shoes,” Lucille smiled and walked away, picking up her purchase on her way out the door. Venus pondered her words, especially what she’d said about the ‘gift of forgiveness’. If she’d been looking for something to give Henry, maybe that would be it - after her anger subsided, of course. 

“I see Mrs. Turner was making your acquaintance,” Sam said, returning to finish up his sale. 

“Yes, she seemed nice,” Venus admitted. 

“She and her husband own Periwinkle Press,” Sam said. “They publish several magazines including The Outdoor Life and Women Awake.”

“Women Awake,” Venus mused. “That sounds interesting.”

“It’s very avant garde, as they say. Lots of people hate it and the government tried to ban it, but it’s catching on.”

“Well, any publication that incurs the ire of our esteemed governors is worth a look,” she smirked. “Thank you for the recommendation.” She showed him the shoes she wanted and he boxed them up for her and she settled up the bill at the counter. On her way home, she stopped at a newsstand and picked up a copy of “Women Awake”. The title was the perfect metaphor for the moment. She’d allowed herself to be lulled into relaxed inattention by how well things were going with Henry, but she was awake now, and more motivated than ever to maintain her independence. What she didn’t expect or understand was the physical ache in her chest that accompanied the idea that that independence might mean leaving Henry behind.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a tough week for Venus and Henry. Can Henry come through and patch things up?  
> ++++

“I’m sorry, Freddy,” Venus said. “I can’t pay you right now, so take a couple days off.” It wasn’t that she couldn’t have paid him, she could have, but she didn’t want to cut it too close. She was going to need some large sums soon, for carpeting, drapery, furniture, and stocking the bar, and the last thing she wanted to do was incur debt. 

“You don’t need to pay us right away,” Freddy said and his crew all nodded in agreement. “We’ll keep painting until you can.”

“Thank you, all of you,” she said. “But I’m going to work on the walls upstairs by myself. When I’m ready for the trim, I’ll call you back.” The paint crew looked at each other skeptically. “I promise I’ll call you,” she insisted.

“Alright, Madam Venus,” Freddy said. “We’ll leave our brushes and rollers here. Maybe I’ll come by in a few days and check on you.”

“That would be fine, thank you,” she smiled at them. They bid her good day and shuffled off, and Venus sighed as she watched them leave. Henry’s unexpected withdrawal from the club account had pinched her ability to pay her laborers. Plus, she didn’t have the emotional energy to be around other people while she was still so upset with him. Working alone in the house allowed her time to grieve privately, and allowed her to channel that negativity into something productive. 

When she thought about what Henry had done, her stomach twisted as if squeezed by a hot fist, and it was everything she could do to keep from doubling over - the emotional anguish easily becoming physical pain. Even the abuse she’d suffered from Joey hadn’t affected her so strongly. His manipulation and blackmail were just mental games and she learned quickly to stand her ground, knowing there would be consequences. Even the beating and rape, while humiliating, hadn’t cut nearly as deeply as Henry betraying her trust.

In the two days since she’d confronted him about the withdrawal, she’d cried buckets of tears. It was not just about the broken trust, but about what it would mean for the renovations and opening of Club Phoenix. Yesterday she’d had to send her plasterers home, and the painters had shown up today expecting to paint what had been plastered and was now dry. Now everything had ground to a halt. 

She hadn’t spoken one word to Henry since she’d left his office the other day, either. She wasn’t planning to call him, but she half expected him to try calling her. The fact that he didn’t was a pain all its own, and she wondered if he’d given up on her. The lack of his presence and personality was almost as heartbreaking as his actions. She knew if she were to see him right now she’d forgive any indiscretions just to have him with her again. But it was his duty to make it right and then come to her. If she went to him first, it would send the wrong message. Her faith in him was too important to simply give it away. He’d earned her trust before, and she needed him to earn it again. As crazy as it sounded, she needed the Crime King of Melbourne to restore her faith in humanity. 

She sighed and headed upstairs to take stock of what she needed to do, and get started painting the six small rooms on the third floor. Gin and Tonic joined her, chasing each other around her feet as she climbed the stairs, and she was grateful for their playful presence. 

+++

“When can we sign the deed?” Henry asked his banker. “I need those proceeds right away.” Despite the difficult economic times, he’d easily found another buyer for his erstwhile baccarat location, but he feared it would be another month before it would close. That would have been fine under normal circumstances, giving him plenty of time to relocate his equipment, but these were not normal circumstances. And with real estate, you had to play by the rules or legal trouble was sure to follow. He was beginning to think he’d have to bite the bullet and take money out of his own accounts to cover the withdrawal from Club Phoenix. He couldn’t wait thirty days to see Venus again. 

“The buyer is having some issues with his bank, and as soon as that’s straightened out, the wheels can start spinning again,” said the banker. “Maybe two weeks?”

Henry sighed. “Is there anything you can do?”

“I can’t very well call the other bank and push them into loaning money to their customer when they’re not ready to.”

“Alright, I understand,” Henry said. He didn’t like it, but he understood it. “Call me as soon as you know something.” He hung up the phone and sighed again. 

When he wasn’t thinking about how furious he was with himself for fucking everything up with Venus by making the withdrawal from the Club account, he was still dealing with the theft from the jewelry store heist. Kozzy and Grint still hadn’t found the kid who’d robbed them, although they’d been following his trail from one pawn shop to another. Nor had they figured out if he was part of a gang, and none of the thugs that Kozzy and Grint talked to knew who he was. 

Henry had, however, been able to settle the issue of the missing bottles with his supplier, making a deal for reimbursement with extra bottles and ensuring a short-term discount to make up for the inconvenience. It wasn’t a cash settlement, however, so he still had to figure out how to get his hands on £2500. 

He got up and walked out of his office to stand among the tables of his casino. The house won hundreds of pounds every night off the poor saps who patronized his various operations. He wondered how much he could skim off the top each night and for how many nights until it added up to £2500. He rubbed his chin and considered it for a moment, then went back to his desk and took out the ledgers for his various locations and started doing some math. Even if there were spies in the banks watching his accounts, a few days of lower receipts wouldn’t look so unusual. The deposits fluctuated anyway, and he could always blame it on the Depression, although it seemed the takes were up since the markets crashed, as desperate people were trying to parlay what little they had into more. And it wasn’t the first time he’d held cash back from deposits, either, so his managers would not think twice. 

As he was running the numbers, he looked up at the sound of someone clearing their throat near the curtain. “Boss?”

“Rusty, come in,” Henry said, waving his hot-goods middle-man toward the visitor’s chairs. Rusty ambled over and sat down. “Any news?” Henry asked him.

“I got The Professor to buy the lot for more than your minimum,” Rusty said, referring to both the underground gem cutter Henry worked with to dispose of stolen jewelry, and the proceeds from the heist. 

“How much?” Henry raised his eyebrows.

“£700,” Rusty said, the corner of his mouth turning up as he pulled out an envelope from his jacket.

Henry raised his eyebrows and nodded, taking the packet of money from him. “That is good news,” he said, looking in the envelope and thumbing the edge of the stack of cash. He knew exactly where that money was going to go. He wondered if maybe another heist would be an easier - if riskier - way to procure the other £1800. As he was contemplating this, two other men walked in, escorted by Snag. Henry quickly tucked the envelope in his jacket.

“These blokes need to talk to you, boss,” Snag said. The ‘blokes’ were dressed for work in paint-splattered coveralls and boots and were looking rather nervous being in the presence of Melbourne’s biggest gangster.

“How can I help you, gentlemen?” Henry said, leaning back in his chair, curious, while Rusty excused himself and ducked out. 

“We’re sorry to bother you, Mr. Stokes,” the taller one said. “I’m Freddy and this is Pete, and we’ve been working for Madam Venus at Club Phoenix on Albert Street. My crew does the painting and Pete’s crew does the plastering.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you working when I’ve been over there. Everything alright with the renovations?” Henry asked, narrowing his eyes at them. “Last time I went by everything was looking good.”

“The work is going great, God’s truth,” Pete said. “But,” he hesitated.

“But what?”

“Madam Venus let us both go,” Freddy said. “Me today and Pete yesterday. Said she doesn’t have the money to pay us now, and we thought you should know, being her business partner and all.”

“Are you owed any money?”

“No, sir,” Freddy insisted. “We’ve been paid for all our work so far, and we offered to keep working until she has the money, but she said no.”

“I see,” Henry mused, pondering this new information. 

“And we’re not here looking for money, or work,” Freddy said. “We both have other jobs waiting for us when we finish at Club Phoenix.”

“But we told the other jobs when we could start, knowing when we’d be done at the club,” Pete explained. “But if we get delayed at the club, we might lose those other jobs.”

“Or if we knew how long we were going to be off the Club Phoenix job,” Freddy added, “we could go to the other job and get that done early and then come back. But we can’t do both at once, you see.”

“I do see,” Henry said, steepling his fingers. “How much more time do you need at Club Phoenix?”

Freddy and Pete looked at each other and then Freddy said, “About a week, each. Although Madam Venus said she was going to do some painting herself, so maybe not that long. All on the third floor, everywhere else is done.”

Henry touched his steepled fingers to his lips in contemplation, a plan starting to form in his mind. He stood and reached out his hand to Freddy and Pete. “Thank you for coming by, gentlemen,” he said, shaking hands with them. “I’ll take it from here. Just leave a phone number and I’ll call you later.” He handed them a piece of note paper and a pencil, Freddy wrote his name and number on it, thanked Henry and left. 

Henry poured himself a drink and pondered the situation. As was her way, Venus was trying to do everything herself, but he didn’t deny she had a good reason for it now: His own stupid mistake. She was working under the assumption that he wouldn’t make it right for her, and that the money would not be restored to the Club account. He needed to prove to her that even as a crime boss he had a moral code as well as a heart, and aside from the £2500, there was an additional way he could prove it. With the cash in hand from the sale of the stolen jewelry, the Hardy Brothers heist was over in his mind; all the evidence was gone, except one: Venus’ Phoenix Opal ring. Through his wide network and back channels, he would contact Hardy Brothers about the ring, find out the price, pay for it anonymously and secure a receipt. Somehow, he knew she would appreciate that. 

He turned back to his ledgers and crunched some more numbers, finally deciding on an amount to skim from each location. Then he called in his cashier, Cooper, who was starting to get set up for the night, and outlined his plan, explaining that it was for the new floating casino.

“Do you understand what I’m asking?” Henry asked him.

“Perfectly, boss,” Cooper said with cool confidence, assuring Henry that he had chosen the right man to train as his second-in-command. 

“Good. Do you think we can get all the other cashiers on board before tonight?” Henry asked, trusting Cooper to know how best to accomplish this. “Do you want to call them individually, or should we have them all here for a meeting?”

“I’ll call them. I have your list of amounts for each location and I’ll bring everything to you in the mornings.”

“Good. Use my phone,” Henry said, packing up the ledgers and locking them in his desk. “I have something else to attend to at the moment.” 

He left Cooper to the calls and left his office via the alcove behind his desk. A little further down the hall was a door to the back warehouse where they stored all manner of tools, supplies and equipment. It tended to become cluttered quickly, but Frenchy had managed to organize it into categories, and would regularly check to make sure things were in their proper spaces. 

Henry found the “interior repairs” section, where stacks of half-used cans of paint resided next to a pile of folded tarps and a large assortment of brushes and rollers. He also found a set of paint-stained coveralls and a wooden tool caddy. He collected what he needed and put all of it in a sturdy box, then carried it upstairs to his private quarters. Hopefully, in a few days, he would be capable of executing his plan and reconnecting with Venus, all in one fell swoop. 

+++

Three days after letting Freddy go, Venus was sorely tempted to call him back. She’d awoken with a crick in her neck and aching back and arms from painting three ceilings the day before, and the hallway the day before that, and she didn’t think she’d ever get the paint out from under her fingernails. Hattie might turn her away the next time she showed up for a manicure. She took a powder for her aches and ate a hearty breakfast of two hard boiled eggs, two thick slices of wheat toast with butter, and an orange. Since she’d started working on the club, she’d started drinking coffee with breakfast, as well, finding it more fortifying than tea. She tossed a few bits of egg in Gin and Tonic’s dishes, then headed upstairs to the third floor to keep working. 

About ten o’clock, her locksmith, Gordie, arrived. He’d already changed the locks on the exterior doors, but now he was back to update all the interior door locks. He also brought with him the large safe she’d ordered, and several strong men to hoist and roll it into position in her office. Once the safe was in place and he’d explained its operation, he set to work on the locks, and Venus trudged back upstairs for another couple hours. 

“Ma’am, there’s some bloke here to see you,” said Gordie, coming into the kitchen as she was finishing up her lunch around one o’clock. 

“Who is it?” she asked.

“He didn’t say his name, but he looks like a painter.”

Venus sighed. Random laborers tended to show up looking for work, but she’d already secured private contracts for everything and didn’t trust anyone who just showed up at her door. And of course, she’d already sent Freddy and his crew packing. “I guess I’ll have to send him away, too,” she said, rising from her chair. 

“Want me to, ma’am?”

“No thanks, Gordie. I’ll take care of it.” Gordie nodded and went back to work. Venus made her way to the front foyer but there was no one there. When she looked into the parlor that was to become her girls’ dressing room, a tall man in coveralls, boots and a tweed cap was admiring the trim on the mantle. His back was toward her, and he was holding a wooden tool caddy with paint brushes in it. 

“If you’re looking for work, sir, I’m going to have to disappoint you,” she began as she approached. “Right now I can’t afford -” She stopped short when he turned around. 

“Henry! What are you doing here?” He looked slightly ridiculous in the coveralls, compared to how he was usually dressed, but her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him and she bit her tongue to stifle the excitement that bubbled in her stomach. 

“I heard you had to let the painters and plasterers go,” he said, stepping toward her. “We can’t afford any delays, so I’m here to fill in.” 

She lifted her chin and stood her ground, resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms. “You don’t have to do this for me,” she said.

“I’m not doing this for you,” he replied, taking another step closer. “I’m merely looking after my investment.”

That was his usual line when he wanted to do something for her under the guise of helping with the club, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that his investment wasn’t his main motivation. He was close enough now that she could smell his pomade, the barest whiff of shaving soap, and the bittersweet scent of his cigars rising from under the filthy coverall, and the aromatic mix threatened to weaken her knees. Her heart thudded in her chest and her mouth went dry.

“Is that all?” she swallowed and licked her lips, fighting like hell to maintain a shred of defiant dignity. 

“And I know my way around a paint brush,” he said, lifting one corner of his mouth and spinning a fat brush in his fingers. 

Disappointment flooded her heart. She’d been hoping he was there to tell her he’d made good on his promise to reimburse the Club account. She cleared her throat and swallowed the aching lump. “Well, then we’d better put you to work,” she said, her voice clipped and detached, as she turned to leave the room. There was no need to be more than polite with him, but that didn’t mean she would turn down the help. 

“Oh, and I have something for you,” he said, taking a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of the coveralls and handing it to her.

She turned back, looking sideways at him as she took it, wary optimism pushing against the disappointment. As she unfolded the page, the seal and name of the bank became visible, and her pulse raced. Opening the letter fully, she read the short paragraph, dated today, stating that the account balance was back up over £4000, and, in fact, was higher than it had been before by a few hundred pounds. Her heart beat faster, rising into her throat as the stress of their estrangement instantly fell away.

“I’m so sorry, Venus,” he said quietly, taking one of her shaking hands in his. “Can you ever forgive me? I promise I’ll never let anything like this happen again.”

“Oh, Henry,” she breathed, finally looking up into his eyes, seeing the regret and the hope he was feeling, and her heart was overcome. “Of course, I forgive you. One hundred percent.”

“Oh, thank God,” he said, dropping his tool caddy with a clatter and pulling her into a fierce embrace. They clung to each other for a few minutes, and she clutched at his shoulders to press him as tightly against her as she could. Tears of elation and relief rolled down her cheeks, and when he pulled back to look at her, his cheeks were wet, too. 

“This has been the worst week of my life,” he said, reaching up to touch her face, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “Knowing I had to make it right, but not knowing if you’d have me back or if you’d even look at me. I don’t ever want to live through that again. Your forgiveness means more to me than any stupid boat, or casino, or even a million lousy pounds.”

His words coated her heart like jelly on scones, warm, sweet and satisfying. “Thank you for doing whatever it was you had to do to make this happen,” she said, indicating the now crumpled letter from the bank.

“I would have done anything just to be able to see you again,” he said. His assertion was simple but profound, reaching into her soul and finding a corresponding desire.

“I can’t believe how much I missed you,” she replied, her voice cracking as she laid her palm gently on his face. 

“It was like five days without sunshine,” he sighed, and she nodded. 

He leaned in slowly and her eyes fluttered closed just as his lips touched hers. She relaxed against him as he kissed her gently, holding her close, his kiss expressing what his words could not. There was apology, gratitude, respect, and deep affection in every soft and earnest slip of his mouth. It was not a kiss of passion, but of reconciliation, and her heart felt as though it would burst with everything she was feeling for this man. She didn’t fully understand it, but she wanted to. 

They smiled at each other when they broke apart, then he wrapped her into a tender and meaningful embrace in which time stopped and her heart began to heal. 

“So, are you going to put me to work or not?” he asked after a little while. “I even brought dinner for later,” he said, pointing to the picnic basket on the floor next to the door that she hadn’t even noticed yet.

“You do know the way to this girl's heart,” she grinned. “Follow me.”

+++

They put the food away in the kitchen, then Henry trudged up to the third floor with her. The smell of fresh paint was in the air, and a cool breeze was wafting through the open windows, providing ventilation. 

“I’ve done the hallway and these three rooms so far,” Venus said, walking past the ones she was waving at. “And I’ve painted the ceilings in the other three, and started on the walls today.”

“That’s a lot of work,” Henry said, continually impressed with her determination. 

“Once the walls are done, then I’ll call Freddy back to do the trim,” she explained. 

“Then let’s get started,” he said, marching over to the cans of paint and taking stock. He turned to pass her a roller and she stepped close and placed her hand against his chest, right over his heart. He wondered if she could feel it thudding beneath her palm.

“Thank you for this,” she said simply.

“Can’t let you have all the fun,” he said, spinning his cap backward and giving her a wink. Her smile twinkled in her eyes and a small laugh bubbled from her throat, and the lighthearted moment put them back on familiar ground.

They worked all afternoon, finishing the room she had started that morning, and completing three of four walls in the second room about four o’clock, the same time that Gordie and his helper completed all the interior locks. Venus went downstairs to get them their final payment from her office and collect all the new keys, then sent them on their way, leaving Henry alone in the house with her - a situation he was not opposed to. 

“One more wall and we can call it quits for the day,” she said, as she returned to the third floor.

“Slave driver,” he grumbled, only half in protest.

“We can’t quit now,” she asserted. “I can’t leave one wall unpainted, it’ll bother me all night.”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at her, paint-splattered coveralls hiding her curves, hands on her hips with self-assurance, and the late afternoon sun slanting through the window turning her rumpled curls into spun gold. She was the queen of her domain and he was but her humble servant. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” he said. “Especially since I’m sure you’d rather be kept awake for more libertine reasons.” He gave her a wag of his eyebrows as he crossed the room. Her laughter echoed off the bare walls, injecting an extra spark of energy into his veins to knock out the last part of their project for the day. 

When they were finished, and the brushes and rollers were cleaned and the paint and tools stacked neatly in the last unpainted room, she brushed her hands together with satisfaction. 

“Ah, that feels good,” she declared. “Tomorrow will be a breeze with just one room left.”

“You’re one of those people who has to have everything squared off, aren’t you,” he said, coming to stand in front of her.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You like everything to be neatly arranged, and no loose ends,” he said, waving at the stacks of paint and supplies. “You couldn’t leave the room unfinished, for example. And I’ve seen you straightening things on my desk, or lining up our napkins just so on the bar. I’ll bet you straighten the paintings in other people’s homes, don’t you.” He was merely making an observation, but delivered it with a gently teasing tone.

She narrowed her eyes at him and set her hands on her hips again. “Well, of course,” she said. “When everything’s in order it makes the world beautiful.”

“You’re not looking very orderly at the moment,” he said, brushing aside a few curls that had fallen across her forehead, having escaped the scarf she’d wrapped around her head to keep them contained. “And yet, you make my world more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide, and she caught her breath. 

“Henry,” she whispered after a moment. “How do you do that?”

“Do what,” he said, matching her soft tone.

“Find all these wonderful things to say to me?”

“I dunno. You inspire me, I guess.”

“Well, that’s a new one,” she said. “No one’s ever told me I inspire them.”

“I get the feeling there are a lot of things you’ve never heard or done or felt before you met me,” he said, deciding it was time to take a risk. His heart rate increased and his skin warmed as he stepped out onto the emotional ledge.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, shaking her head curiously. “I’m a madam, Henry. There’s not much I haven’t heard or done or felt.” 

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said, undeterred. He took a step to close the gap between them. “I don’t think you’ve ever been in love.” 

She blinked, startled by his bold assertion. “What?”

“Not before you moved to Melbourne, anyway,” he clarified. “But now you are, and it scares you.”

“Henry Stokes, how dare you presume to know how I’m feeling,” she shot back. 

“Because I see it in you, Venus,” he said. “And you don’t even know what it is.”

She glared at him, a world of emotions passing in her eyes in just a few seconds, before she finally shook her head and laughed. “You know, I have seen men with big egos, especially gangsters, and you’re no exception, Henry, but I have never seen an ego so big a man’s certain a woman is in love with him.”

“It’s not ego, Venus,” he said, taking her hand and keeping his voice as calm and steady as possible. “It’s mutual.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without further ado, let's resolve this thing, shall we?  
> Oh, and this chapter is DEFINITELY **RATED E**!!!  
> +++++

Venus’ world lurched and spun like a gyroscope knocked off its axis. Or was it finally knocked onto its proper axis? Everything she’d been thinking and feeling about Henry, everything she didn’t understand, had suddenly clicked into place. He was right, of course, and it all made sense now; she was in love with him and it was futile to deny it. 

Henry pulled her close. “I love you, Venus,” he said with quiet assurance, his declaration making it real. The simple words opened a door in her heart and a light of profound awareness flooded in.

“I - I love you, too,” she replied, gripping the front of his coveralls to steady herself as the gyroscope tilted and spun to its new rhythm. 

His smile was soft and genuine. “I’m glad you agree,” he said, the low tone of his voice vibrating deep inside her.

“I don’t know that I had much choice,” she said, still stunned by the new realization. 

“That’s usually how it works.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, his eyes full of adoration. He leaned in close and kissed her, this time with passion, and a heat that spread like bushfire through her body. Everything in her prior experience burned away and, like the mythical phoenix, she was emerging a completely new woman - a woman in love for the very first time. 

His mouth moved to her jawline and down her neck as she clung to him. Her skin tingled and she ached for him in a way that was more than just physical desire; she craved to connect to his soul. She placed her hands on his cheeks and held his face so she could look into his eyes. His small smile and intense gaze proved he felt the same. Whatever had held them back before would do so no longer: It was time.

“Come downstairs,” she whispered. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied. She gave him a sly grin and grabbed his hand to lead him out of the room.

“Hold on,” he said with a wag of his eyebrows when they reached the top of the staircase. He let go of her hand and lifted his arse onto the banister and slid down to the second floor with a whoop. She watched in delight from the top step and laughed at his frolic. 

“Your turn,” he called up from the second floor. 

“Me?”

“Yes, you, or I’m leaving and taking that picnic basket with me.”

“Don’t you threaten me in my own home, Henry Stokes,” she bantered. 

“Which is fifty-percent mine, don’t forget. Now get down here, woman, so I can make love to you properly,” he proclaimed. 

Her body sizzled at his words. “Well, if you insist,” she replied, then hopped up on the banister herself, descending toward him with a wobble and a shriek of laughter, and he collected her in his waiting arms. Gin and Tonic heard the excitement and galloped out from their hiding spot to join in the fun. When Henry grabbed her hand and led her around to the next flight, the cats followed and tumbled down the stairs to the first floor. Henry and Venus laughed at the kittens’ clumsiness, then slid down the banister after them, Henry going first, and both of them whooping like children on the way down. He caught her at the bottom again and spun her around until she was laughing and dizzy. Who knew sliding down a banister could be such an aphrodisiac?

She spun out of his embrace to quickly bolt the front door, and when she turned back around, he was right there, pushing her against the door and kissing her, his hands roving greedily over her body. Heat vibrated in her core as he ravished her, his palm cupping her between her legs, his nails scratching against the heavy twill of her coveralls sending delicious tingles dancing along her nerve endings. He knelt in front of her and removed her work boots, then stood and made quick work of the large buttons on her coveralls. He pushed the garment off her shoulders and the entire thing fell to the floor at her feet, revealing an old pair of cotton bloomers and an old men’s dress shirt with the sleeves torn off and tied at the waist.

“You weren’t expecting silk and lace while I was painting, were you?” she asked when he stopped and stared, striking a pose and batting her eyelashes.

“No, but I expect it’ll come off just as easily,” he said, reaching for her again. 

“Catch me if you can,” she dared, ducking under his arm and trotting down the hall. He caught up to her before she reached the door to her suite, grabbing her around the middle while she shrieked and laughed. He pressed her against the wall with a kiss while he practically tore the old shirt off her and threw it aside. He made quick work of her brassiere as well, exploring her bare skin with his large hands. 

He cupped her breasts, swirling his thumbs over her nipples until they were taut, sending zaps of electricity straight to her core. Her cunt began to ache in earnest as thrumming waves of pleasure coursed through her entire body. Henry worked his mouth down her neck, below her collarbone and between the soft pillows of her breasts, inhaling deeply and exhaling with satisfaction. His mouth found one of her nipples, finally, and when his warm, wet lips connected, she gasped and whined and the heat between her legs increased. He took his time, his tongue, lips and teeth enjoying each breast in turn, and she clawed at his arms, shoulders and back, whimpering and moaning. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he rasped, coming up for air.

“And you’re so overdressed,” she replied, grabbing him by the front of his coveralls and turning his back to the wall. He didn’t resist. She knelt to remove his boots, as he’d done for her, but on her way back up she pressed her palm against his erection and he inhaled sharply, a guttural moan lifting from his throat as she massaged him. She pressed her hip where her hand had been so she could use both hands to unbutton his coveralls, and he ground himself against her, his head lolling back against the wall. 

She pushed the coveralls open over his shoulders, and down his arms until they, too, fell in a pile at his feet. A simple white undershirt did little to hide the angular planes of his body, and she smoothed her palms slowly back up his arms to his shoulders and down over his chest, reveling in the muscular feel of him. She’d never allowed herself to enjoy a man too much, it interfered with her job and was dangerous for her heart. It was different now, and she was going to take every opportunity to enjoy the view and the feel and the experience of the singular Henry Stokes. She glanced up at him and he was watching her, a soft smile playing at the corners of his parted lips, his breathing shallow with heightened arousal.

She collected the hem of his shirt in her fingers, toying lightly with the bare skin just above the waistband of his plain cotton shorts, and his muscles twitched under her fingertips. She pulled the shirt up and he impatiently yanked it off and tossed it to the floor, then pulled her to him. They both gasped when they were finally skin-to-skin, and Henry crushed her lips with his. She locked her hands behind his neck and held on while he stroked the sensitive skin under her arms, swooping his fingers gently under the curve of her breasts. His insistent kiss was the only thing keeping her from laughing at his ticklish touch, while her skin responded with goosebumps. 

He moved his hands down to her derriere, holding her to him while he rubbed his hardened length against her. She tilted her hips toward him for a better angle, but he was just tall enough to prevent the friction her cunt was begging for. He hoisted her up into his arms, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, the tip of his cock finally pressing against her, and her mewling cry echoed through the hallway. 

“What were you saying the other night about christening my new bed?” she asked, panting, thankful that she’d taken a moment earlier to stop in the bathroom for her diaphragm. 

The corner of his mouth lifted in a sly grin and his eyelids dropped to a sultry half-mast. “Your wish is my command,” he intoned. He made sure he had a good grip on her before carrying her across the threshold into her suite, kicking the door shut behind them. The door to her bedroom was ajar, and he pushed it open with a shoulder, keeping a tight grip on her, even while she nibbled his neck and breathed gently on his ear. 

He set her down on the edge of the bed, catching his breath as he stood in front of her. She deftly unbuttoned his undershorts and slid them down, caressing his thighs and arse, and admiring his arousal. She wrapped her fingers around him and took him in her mouth, and he grunted and gasped with pleasure, digging his fingers into her curls as her head bobbed up and down over him. 

He pulled her off him after a few minutes and laid her back on the bed. He found the ribbon tie for her bloomers and tugged it undone with his teeth, nuzzling her stomach as he removed the last of her undergarments. 

“So beautiful,” he breathed as he caressed her from her knees to her breasts and back. She curled her fingers into his hair as he kissed his way down her abdomen to her crotch, spreading her legs, stroking her sensitive inner thighs. She was panting in earnest now, trying not to pull his hair too hard as she guided him closer to the desperate, aching need at the apex of her thighs. He spread her plush lips open with his thumbs and touched her gently with his tongue, and a sharp cry squeaked from her throat. 

“Oh, god,” she moaned over and over as he massaged her with his nimble fingers and clever tongue. Higher and higher he took her and she grabbed fistfuls of her fluffy down quilt as she writhed against him. If there was a heaven for girls like her, surely this was it. 

“Wait,” she panted just as Henry was about to slide two of his long, firm fingers into her.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, concerned.

“I don’t want your fingers right now,” she said. “Come up here.” He did so with a smile, wiping his face on her old bloomers. 

“I’ve been dreaming about this since the first time I kissed you,” he said as he knelt over her, his broad shoulders eclipsing the room - and everything else - from her view, her mind, her heart. All that mattered in the moment was him.

“Me, too,” she nodded. He bent down to kiss her, and she tasted her own salty essence on his lips and tongue. She reached down to stroke him firmly as she arched her hips toward him. She spread her folds open with her other hand and touched him to her opening. His eyes locked on hers as he pressed himself into her. They gasped at the same moment, watching each other's faces as they connected their bodies to their souls. 

“Oh, god, Henry,” she gulped.

“Venus, my goddess,” he rasped, burying his face in her neck, his body motionless as they both absorbed the enormity of the moment. Her muscles vibrated around him, as if begging him to start thrusting. He seemed to sense it too, and began an easy rhythm, holding her close as their bodies rocked together. She clung to him as silent tears of contentment and bliss escaped her eyelids and slid down the sides of her face into her hair. All her life she’d been chasing something she knew she was missing, but didn’t know what it was. Finally she’d found it with Henry - and her whole world was changed.

She sniffed and he pulled back to look at her. “Are you all right,” he whispered, worried.

“I’m fine, I just love you,” she smiled. He responded by kissing her with gusto. He slid his hand down the side of her body, around her derriere, and behind her thigh, reaching around and between them. His fingers found where they were connected and he stroked around her opening while he pulsed in and out. 

“Oh, god,” she panted at his touch, and her eyes rolled back in her head. 

His thrusts became more intense and he pushed himself up with both arms for leverage. She smoothed her hands over his chest and shoulders, hard and taut with the exertion of lovemaking. Henry Stokes was making love to her and she to him, and her world was finally, beautifully, in order. 

The energy was building deep in her center as she got closer. The last of Melbourne’s late-winter daylight was enough for her to look down and watch the glorious sight of him sliding in and out of her. She reached between them herself this time and touched her sensitive spots, and a kaleidoscope of color swirled inside her eyelids. A few more quick strokes and her body convulsed with ecstasy, and she hollered his name as she let everything go flying over her orgasmic cliff.

“Fuck, Venus,” he rumbled. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He thrust harder, faster, his handsome face contorting as he reached the breaking point. “Fuck!” he growled as he came, his release pressing against her in just the right way to make her come again. She wondered if all of Albert Street could hear them.

He lowered himself to his elbows and kissed her sweetly as his deflated cock slipped slowly out of her, then he rolled onto his back, panting. Venus couldn’t do much more; her energy was completely sapped, but oh, in the very best way. 

+++

“Come here,” Henry whispered after a few moments, collecting Venus in his arms and cradling her close. She snuggled against him and sighed, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this content. It wasn’t just about the sex, although that had been incredible. Being intimate with Venus didn’t just feel good to his body, but it felt right deep in his soul. He never really thought much about that part of himself; being a crime boss meant ignoring whatever soul or conscience one may have been born or raised with. When it came to love, however, he was just as affected as any man, he supposed.

Holding her like this, her warm body supple and languid against his, was a state he could exist in eternally. If there was no need to ever get out of bed, no business to run or need for sustenance, he would happily stay right here with her. They would talk softly, laugh and dream, and make love whenever the desire arose, and never get dressed again. He allowed himself the indulgence of imagining it and exhaled a contented sigh. 

“Henry?” Venus whispered beside him. He looked down at her face and found himself swimming in her turquoise eyes. 

“Yeah?”

“How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That I was in love with you.” He smiled at her query, as if he somehow possessed a secret knowledge, when it was really just experience, and he understood why it was an experience she may have missed out on. Her profession didn’t lend itself to the indulgences required to actually fall in love. A part of him was sad about that for her, but mostly he was delighted and humbled by the fact that he was her first.

“It was little things, mostly,” he said, thinking back over all their evenings together at his casino, dinner and drinks, laughter, companionship and kisses. “The way you would look at me when you thought I didn’t know, the way you would kiss me or randomly touch me; how you would nervously change the subject if our conversation got too personal, and especially how you were so eager to forgive me today.”

“I was, wasn’t I,” she said with a soft chuckle and self-deprecating shake of her head. “I thought I was tough, that I could handle the setback." She shook her head again, sadly this time. "But this past week was worse than when I lost the Dahlia. I cried for two days after I left your office.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his gut wrenching. “I never want to cause you pain ever again.”

“I know you don’t,” she said, placing her hand on his cheek. “But if you do, I’ll forgive you then, too.” 

He covered her hand with his own, and brought it to his lips to kiss the back of her fingers. Her faith in him was the solid ground he didn’t know he needed. “I don’t deserve you,” he said.

“Nor I you,” she replied. “You could have easily walked away after you found out about the Dahlia and what a femme fatale I was, but you didn’t.”

“That made me want you even more,” he admitted. “You think I would have got on with a Sunday school teacher or a woman from the temperance union?” he scoffed and she laughed. “We’re two of a kind,” he continued. “And I don’t need you to be law-abiding, I just need you to be mine.”

“One hundred percent,” she nodded. “And that’s all I need from you.”

“One hundred percent,” he replied readily. Damn, he would do anything for her.

“Henry?” she said after a quiet moment.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and hope it isn’t too forward of me to ask, but,” she hesitated a bit, and he waited patiently and curiously. “Well, I was wondering,” she continued, “would you consider moving in here with me?”

Henry was stunned. “Really? Are you sure?” he asked.

“Of course I’m sure,” she said. “You’ve told me your quarters above your casino aren’t the best, and it seems a frivolous expense to buy a separate house for us when you own half this place already,” she explained while his heart rate increased.

“Us? Venus what are you saying?” He tipped her chin up with a knuckle and searched her eyes for answers, his heart tumbling over with nervous hope. 

She took his hand in hers and pressed a kiss into his palm, then scooted out of his embrace and reached for the nightstand on the other side of the bed, scooping something out of a small china bowl. When she came back to him, she opened her hand and showed him the Phoenix opal ring on a long gold chain.

“Hold this,” she said, handing him the ring while she undid the clasp and slid the chain out, then held out her left hand to him. “Oh, and you should know, the woman who loves you, the one in here,” she pointed to her heart. “Her name is Bronwyn Colesmith.”

+++

Maybe she was crazy, maybe she was rushing into things, but she’d never been more confident about a decision in her life. She was still nervous because everything was so new, but this was where she belonged, with Henry. 

Henry seemed to understand and he swallowed hard as he took her left hand and looked in her eyes. “Bronwyn Colesmith, my goddess, will you marry me?”

Emotion surged to the surface, pushing a lump into her throat and filling her eyes with liquid joy. “Yes, I will, absolutely,” she breathed. He slid the ring onto her finger and her heart thudded out of her chest. When their eyes met, his were just as damp as hers, and they both sniffed and laughed incredulously at what they’d just done. He gripped her in a fervent embrace, pressing her entire body against him, even wrapping one of his legs around hers to bring her closer. When he kissed her, there was a new saltiness on her tongue as their tears of joy slid down their faces and between their lips. The depth of his emotion struck her heart, and she realized what this meant for him as well. He’d walked a difficult and lonely path since Annie had left; it was no wonder his feelings were just as intense as her own, and this made him all the dearer to her heart.

“I have another question,” Henry asked when they finally came up for air.

“What’s that?”

“Can I still call you Venus?”

“Of course, silly man,” she grinned. “But you haven’t answered my question; will you live here with me?”

“I would be honored,” he replied. 

“It’s the least I can do, considering all you’ve done for me,” she said. 

“No quid pro quo, remember?” he said.

“I know, and it’s not,” she said. “I want you here; I want you with me.”

He didn’t answer right away, and she watched him fight to control his emotions. “You have no idea,” he began, then cleared his throat to prevent his voice from breaking. It didn’t help much. “You have no idea what it means to me to hear you say that.”

“I think I can imagine,” she said softly, suspecting that Annie’s departure had left him feeling unwanted, unneeded, and certainly unloved. She placed her hand on his cheek again and looked deeply into his eyes. “I love you, Henry Stokes. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

In response, he gathered her close and kissed her, then made love to her again, taking his time as darkness descended and streaks of moonlight angled through the windows. He encouraged her to relax and let him explore every inch of her, from the arch of her foot to the back of her knees, from the hollow of her navel to the dip between her collarbones. By the time he lavished her nipples with kisses, she was gasping for breath, and when he ducked his head between her thighs to drink her in, her body convulsed with pleasure in just a few strokes of his tongue. He slid two fingers inside her, pushing gently against the tightness created by her orgasm, curling them upward, engaging her secret switch that would send her even higher. In a few moments, she was clutching the bedsheets again as he sent her careening into oblivion. 

+++

“May I use your phone?” Henry asked later, stepping into his undershorts. “I need to let Cooper know I won’t be in tonight.”

“Of course,” she said, climbing out of bed after him and donning a robe. “I’ll light a fire in the grate and then we can eat in here.”

“Excellent. I’m starving,” he said and walked out to her desk. He placed the call to Cooper, then headed toward the door to the hall. He’d left a small case outside the front door with some regular clothes in the event things had worked out exactly like they had. When he opened the door of her suite he took one look and laughed. 

“What are you laughing at?” Venus said, approaching him from the bedroom. 

“For a woman who likes everything neat and orderly, you sure left a mess in the hallway,” he teased. The entire length of the floor was littered with their clothes. She looked out at the trail of coveralls, boots, and undergarments, then turned to him with a sly grin.

“Looks like a party to me,” she said. 

“It was definitely a good time, I’ll give you that,” he replied, curling his arms around her. 

“I hope you’ll give it to me again and again and again,” she bantered back.

“Whenever you want,” he said, kissing her. 

“Are you coming with me to the kitchen,” she asked. 

“I will in a moment,” he said, letting her go and heading for the front door. 

“Where are you going?” she asked as he unbolted the lock.

“Not far.” A rush of chilly air made him shiver as he opened the door and grabbed his case, holding it up for her to see. 

“You’re something, Henry Stokes,” she laughed, then turned toward the kitchen. He went back to her room and dug in his case, taking out a comfortable old pair of khaki moleskins and a faded blue cotton knit henley shirt. When he appeared in the kitchen, she stopped what she was doing and stared at him.

“Oh, my,” she said, looking up from the oven, a protective mitt over one hand.

“What?”

“Well, you always look dapper and dashing in your suit and tie,” she said, walking over to him. “But I could definitely get used to this.” She ran her bare hand over his chest and shoulder and down his arm, humming appreciatively. 

“And I could get used to this,” he said, sliding his hands over her silk robe. She clutched the knot of the sash before he could untie it, giving him a sideways look. 

“Can we eat first, please?” she said. “I’m hungry, too.”

“Oh, all right,” he sighed with a fake pout, and proceeded to help her heat up the food Chef John had prepared and they carried two trays and a bottle of wine back to her bedroom. She’d pulled out a table and pair of chairs that had been tucked in a corner to a spot in front of the fireplace. She set down her tray and turned on the lights, while Henry added another log to the grate. 

“You’ve done a beautiful job with this room,” he said, looking around. “I would have said something earlier, but I was a little distracted,” he teased. 

“I won’t hold that against you,” she replied. 

“This painting is amazing.” He pointed at a large work of art above the mantle. 

“It’s a reproduction,” she said. “The Triumph of Venus by Francois Boucher.”

“How appropriate,” he nodded, then turned to her. “But you’re far more beautiful than any work of art.” He stepped closer and held her to him, struck again by the great fortune of having her in his life, and how she had saved him from the sad and lonely existence he’d been living in since Annie had left. He was the kind of man who thrived with a strong woman by his side, and Venus was everything he could have hoped for and more. It was as humbling as it was thrilling. 

“Thank you,” she said simply. “But if you don’t let me eat, Henry, I’ll be more cantankerous than a cornered wombat.” 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we,” he grinned. They tucked in to the generous portions Chef John had sent over, and for the first few minutes the only sounds were the clink of silverware, the crackle of the fire, and their own satisfied hums over the delicious meal. 

“So, where should we get married, Henry?” she asked. 

“Probably not a church,” he said wryly, and she laughed. “Otherwise, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“What about on your floating casino yacht?”

“Now that’s a grand idea,” he said, pointing his fork at her. “But it might be a little while before she’s ready for guests.”

“How soon will that be?”

“A month. Six weeks maybe,” he said. 

“I can work with that,” she nodded. “Do you think Judge Reinhart will do the honors for us?”

“I’m sure he would. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“Club Phoenix will be open by then,” she said, taking a sip of wine. “Once the press gets wind of our nuptials, it’ll be the talk of the town.”

“Just what I need.” He rolled his eyes. “Jacks *and* reporters sniffing around.”

“Well, if we can keep it a secret until it’s over, who cares what anyone thinks then. It’s no crime to get married, after all.”

“IF we can keep it a secret.”

“So, not only do I have a club to open, I have a secret wedding to plan,” she said. “As if I didn’t have enough to do already.” She smiled at him over her wine glass. 

“You need an assistant to help you open the club,” Henry remarked. 

“I do,” she mused. “I actually think one of the girls I’ve already hired to work here would make an excellent assistant.” She was quiet for a moment, thinking, sipping her wine, and when she spoke again, it was with a measure of awe in her tone. “Can you believe it, Henry? We’re actually planning our wedding.”

“I definitely never expected it to happen for me again.” He took her hand across the table. “I don’t just love you, Venus; I need you. You give me something to work for, someone to impress.” To her credit, she was quiet for a moment, and didn’t instinctively dismiss his desire to please her.

“I hope I will always be someone you want to impress, Henry,” she replied, and his heart soared. She understood, she knew. 

They lingered over their meal, and when it was time for dessert, Henry brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels he’d been given at the beginning of prohibition in America, and had been saving for a special occasion. It was the perfect compliment to their apple pie. He helped her clean up, and the simple rhythms of domesticity wove them more tightly together. It was a given they’d find themselves back in bed again, weaving themselves ever closer with each newly discovered thread of pleasure and intimacy as the hours swept by. Sleep, when it came, was the deep, dreamless state of the satisfied soul.

+++

The next few weeks flew by, with final preparations for Club Phoenix falling together smoothly, and the Grand Opening event was a huge success. Henry moved in with Venus within a week of their engagement, and he moved just as swiftly to prepare his casino yacht for their wedding. Venus tried to keep her wedding dress shopping a secret, but one of the girls at the salon must have leaked the news and the local papers caught wind of it within a few days. By the time Club Phoenix opened, “The Marrying Madam and The Gambling Groom” were the talk of Melbourne. 

Venus and Henry took the publicity in stride - it certainly was good for business, as more punters visited their respective establishments, hoping for a glimpse of the happy couple. Venus was thrilled with the group of young women who had chosen to work for her, a better group overall than at the Black Dahlia. She had taken a risk on a couple girls who were looking for a safer, more respectable situation than some of the less reputable places in town, and those girls were making the most of the opportunity. 

She wasn’t trying to save the world, or even all the girls in the city, but she could at least provide something better than the rabbit warren of dingy brothels and drug dens behind Little Lonsdale, where people died alone in the streets. So far, Melbourne had been very good to Venus DeRosier, and she was determined to return the favor. 

+++End Part 1+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murder and mayhem starts tomorrow with Chapter 14, and Phrack is on the case!  
> See you then!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Part 2 - a more traditional casefic for our favorite detectives.   
> But I hope you were paying attention for clues and characters in Part 1!  
> ++++

Part 2 - The Light and The Heat  
One Month Later

+++

A heavy fog blanketed Melbourne in the early Sunday morning hours, diffusing the sun and muffling all sound, as if the city was waking up with a bad hangover. Jack hunched his shoulders as he got out of the police car, hoping to prevent the damp, misty tendrils from curling under his collar, but it was of little use. 

“What have we got, Collins?” He approached the body that was slumped haphazardly against a door frame in a narrow laneway behind Little Lonsdale Street. It was a rough part of town, and deaths were sadly common, especially overdoses like this one, but Collins wouldn’t have called him out for an overdose unless he believed it required the attention of a senior officer. 

“H-his wallet, sir,” Hugh said, handing Jack the leather item. Hugh’s voice quivered and the pained expression in his eyes foretold grim news. Jack opened the wallet and his heart fell. The deceased was James Edwin Spencer, Jr., son of his colleague, Detective Inspector Jim Spencer, head of the City South Vice Unit. His gut lurched and he shook his head at the senseless tragedy.

“Did you know him, Hugh?” Jack asked, acknowledging the younger man’s pain.

“We used to spar at the boxing club, go out for a pint now and then.” Hugh looked away as he spoke, fighting to control his emotions. 

“I’m sorry.” Jack placed a hand on Hugh’s shoulder. 

“I hadn’t seen him in a while,” Hugh continued, a tear streaked down his face, but his voice held. “I didn’t know he was using. I would have tried to help him.”

“I’m sure you would have,” Jack nodded.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Hugh sniffed back his tears and wiped his face, gathering his faculties for the job at hand.

“Don’t ever apologize for your humanity, Collins,” Jack said quietly. “Especially in this job.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You did the right thing calling me here,” Jack said, by way of further affirmation. He looked down at the young man’s body and sighed, then cleared his mind to focus on the task at hand. “Anything else that stands out?” he asked, trusting Hugh’s growing powers of observation. 

“Nothing really, sir. But we found these in the inside pocket of his jacket.” Hugh handed Jack a brown paper evidence bag; inside were half a dozen jeweled rings of obvious high quality. He wondered if the deceased had been one of the robbers of Hardy Brothers Jewelers from some weeks back.

“Interesting,” Jack mused. “Did anyone see him last night?”

“Constables Parker and Frye are canvassing the area now, but it’s still early for this part of town and not a lot of people are answering their doors.”

“Who found him?” Jack asked. He checked the deceased’s hands, face, and neck for any signs of bruising that might have come from a fight or defensive wounds. There appeared to be no marks on Edwin Spencer at all.

“The young boy over there,” Hugh indicated a boy sitting on a crate twenty yards away, next to a younger constable who was keeping him entertained. Jack ambled over to the boy, not wanting to scare him, and crouched down to his level. 

“What’s your name?” Jack asked. The child was thin and dirty, but his eyes were bright and aware.

“Jackie,” the boy said. “Jackie Richardson.” 

“Nice to meet you, Jackie,” Jack put out his hand. “I’m Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. We have very similar names, don’t we.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy nodded and a hint of a smile played at his lips. “Mum calls me Jonathan, but I like Jackie better.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jack smiled, remembering a few arguments with his own mother about John vs. Jack. “How old are you?”

“Eight, sir, but I’ll be nine in two months.”

“And you found the man over there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was anyone with him?”

“No. And I tried to wake him up, but his face was cold and he wouldn’t move at all.”

“I’m sorry you had to find him like that,” Jack said, unable to imagine happening upon a dead man at the tender age of eight. “What were you doing in this laneway so early in the morning?”

“Looking for coins,” the boy said. “Lots of people drop them out here at night, so I come in the mornings. Mum says we can use all the help we can get.”

“You’re a clever lad, Jackie,” Jack said, offering encouragement in the face of the boy’s family’s dire straits. “How much did you find today?”

“Five and six!” the boy said proudly and emptied his pocket to show Jack a handful of coins adding up to five shillings and sixpence. “And I found this, too, but I hope I won’t be in trouble for it.” From the other pocket he produced a ring with three small diamonds on it. 

“Did you find this on the man? In one of his pockets, maybe?”

“No, it was over there, wedged between a couple pavers.” Jackie pointed in the opposite direction from the body.

“Don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble, Jackie,” Jack assured him. “But I will need to take this into police custody.”

“Oh.” Jackie’s face fell as he realized his morning’s windfall was going to be a lot less.

“I tell you what,” Jack said, digging into his own pocket. “Since you’ve been so helpful, the Victoria Police Force would like to say thank you.” He folded two ten-shilling notes into the boy’s hand, hoping that would be enough for groceries for a week or two. “Give those to your mum when you get home, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy breathed in awe. 

“Thank you for your help, Jackie. Constable Andrews here will take you home,” Jack patted Jackie on the shoulder and whispered to Andrews to get the address and the mother’s name, then turned back to the body.

“The coroner’s van is on the way, sir,” Hugh said. “Are you going to contact Inspector Spencer?”

Jack sighed and shook his head. “Let’s get back to the station first. I’ll meet with Spencer in my office. Send a car and have Mrs. Spencer brought in as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Hugh said. They waited for the coroner’s van in silent contemplation, and Jack pushed back memories of the war that rose to mind whenever a death was particularly senseless. He dreaded informing the Spencers; Jim loved his son and had been so proud of Edwin's pursuit of a law degree. 

“What do you make of the jewelry you found in the pockets, Collins?” Jack asked on the way back to the station, pushing aside the sad facts in favor of the curious and suspicious for the time being. He had his own theories about the jewels, but he wanted to hear Hugh’s thoughts.

“Trading them for drugs, sir?”

“Or hocking them for cash for drugs,” Jack extrapolated. “Pieces from the Hardy Brothers robbery have turned up in pawn shops all over the city.”

“You think those rings were from Hardy Brothers, too?”

“We’ll interview the jewelers to see if they recognize them, but that’s my hunch. It’s been the only big jewelry store robbery in the city for months.”

“So you think Edwin Spencer robbed Hardy Brothers?”

“Not by himself - the report said there were two robbers.”

“Maybe he and his partner had a falling out,” Hugh suggested.

“Possibly,” Jack nodded. “But I don’t think he was one of the original robbers.”

“Then how did he come into possession of the jewelry?”

“There may be honor among thieves,” Jack said, “but if Edwin Spencer was a desperate addict, he might have robbed the robbers. If those blokes caught up to Spencer…” Jack trailed off so Hugh could fill in the logical blanks. 

“Then maybe the overdose wasn’t self-inflicted.”

“Exactly,” Jack nodded. 

“The larceny unit hasn’t caught the Hardy Brothers’ robbers, yet, have they?”

“No, but they think they know who was behind it, and THAT individual also has a beef with Inspector Spencer.”

“Who is that, sir?”

“Henry Stokes.”

+++

Back at the station, Jack stood in front of his one office window staring into the distance but not seeing the streets, buildings or cars. Dozens of letters to family members floated in his mind’s eye. “I regret to inform you…,” “...express my deepest condolences…,” “...may you find comfort…” He remembered every one of them and had felt the pain of loss each time. Relaying the news in person didn’t require such formal language, but that didn’t make it easier; the losses were more visceral, with the keening of bereft wives or mothers echoing in his psyche late into the night. The quiet sorrow and disbelief of husbands and fathers, however, stayed with him for weeks. For all the strength men were supposed to have, much of it was for show and the death of a child could crack a man’s foundation like an earthquake Add to that the social expectation of a calm exterior, and you had a recipe for unseen erosion around that crack until it was too late and the carefully-crafted superstructure would collapse. Jack had seen it happen many times, and he hoped Jim Spencer wouldn’t allow that to happen to himself - he was a good man, and a good cop.

“You wanted to see me, Jack?” Jim asked as he entered Jack’s office. The look on his face was a mix of curiosity and concern. Jack hadn’t told him the purpose of the summons. 

“Shut the door and sit down, Jim.” Jim obeyed and Jack sat behind his desk as well. Jim looked up at him, curiosity morphing into dismay.

“I’m sorry about letting that suspect get away in the Dolan case, I -”

“It’s not about that, Jim,” Jack waved his hand. “It’s not about your job at all.” He reached into his suit pocket and took out Edwin’s wallet, and slid it slowly across his desk. “It’s about Eddie.”

Jim reached for it instinctively, but once he touched it his hand trembled and he looked up at Jack, fearful questions filling his widened eyes. 

“Eddie was found in a laneway off Little Lonsdale early this morning,” Jack related quietly. “Dead from an apparent overdose.” He paused while the news sunk in. “I’m so sorry, Jim.”

“No. No, it can’t be,” Jim’s voice was a whisper of confusion and aching denial. “He was over for dinner just last night, we had pork chops, his favorite, and we talked about his clerkship. He’s been struggling, but promised he was getting better and was going to pass the bar in the spring. He was going to ask Gemma to marry him.” Jim’s eyes darted back and forth between Jack’s face and his son’s wallet, his voice trembled and his words rambled, and he wiped his face with his hand several times. Jack walked around his desk and sat next to his colleague, placing his hand on the other man’s shoulder as he’d done for Hugh. The comforting touch broke the logjam and Jim doubled over with silent sobs.

A little while later there was a gentle knock on the office door and Jack stood to answer it.

“Mrs. Spencer is here, sir,” Hugh said quietly. Jack had informed Jim that his wife was on the way, and Jim was trying to collect himself. When Jack looked over at him, he stood and nodded. “Send her in, Collins.” 

Mrs. Spencer’s eyes were wide and worried, but when they locked on her husband’s, damp and red-rimmed, her hand flew to her mouth and her face became a mask of horror. 

“Sarah,” Jim choked, reaching for her, pulling her close. “It’s Eddie. He’s gone.” 

Jack ducked quietly out of his office and shut the door behind him, leaving the Spencers to their private grief. Sarah Spencer’s tortured cries were audible through the door, however, and the other constables and officers in the lobby and hallways all stood still, their heads down in respect. It was a sad day at City South.

+++ 

“Where did you go last night, Zoe?” Venus had a strict policy about her girls not leaving the club during business hours. Zoe had disappeared around eight-thirty and returned around ten-thirty - leaving Venus short-staffed during the busiest part of the night.

“Two-Bit said my brother called,” Zoe explained. “Mum’s been so sick, and I thought she was fine when I left for work, but she took a bad turn and I had to go to her.” The girl was obviously worried about her mother, and her contrition was sincere, but that didn’t mean her actions were easily excusable. Nor did it mean she was telling the truth, though Venus wanted to believe her.

“Two of the members asked for you while you were out,” Venus told her. “We’ve barely been open for two weeks and it is not good for business when my clients don’t get what they want.” She was loath to berate the girl over a family emergency, and Zoe had brought several new members with her from her former clubs. She couldn’t let it become a habit, however. 

“I’m sorry, Madam Venus,” Zoe said, her eyes as pleading as her voice. “I’ve talked with my mother about having someone sit with her at night while I work. We’re still looking for a pleasant companion.”

“I understand, and I appreciate you explaining it to me.” Venus gave the girl a shrewd look. “But next time, please come to me and let me know so I can make arrangements for my clients. I don’t like to be caught off guard.”

“Of course, Madam Venus.”

“You’ll be spending the afternoon in the kitchen with Mrs. Merkle for the next three days as penance. The next infraction will be a two week suspension, and the third time will be dismissal, do you understand?”

“Yes, Madam Venus.” Zoe bowed her head, sufficiently chastised. 

“That’s all for now. Go on and get started in the kitchen.” Venus didn’t flinch as the girl apologized her way out of the room, but sighed and rubbed her temples when she was gone. Disciplining her girls was her least favorite task as a business owner, but it had to be done. She would also have to follow up with Two-Bit about the phone call, and discretely question a couple other girls who saw Zoe return last night. She wouldn’t accuse the girl of moonlighting, not yet, but she would keep her eye on that one.

Tonic wandered in and hopped up on her lap, as if sensing Venus’ discomfort. She collected the kitty in her arms and snuggled him close, her stress melting away with every stroke of soft fur. There was a knock on her door frame and she looked up. It was Gemma.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Of course, come in,” Venus smiled. “What are you doing on this side of town on a Sunday?”

“Helping Mr. Prentiss prepare for a big case tomorrow,” she said, plopping herself into the chair Zoe had just vacated and sighing heavily. She yanked her gloves off with less elegance and more force than was necessary, and Venus narrowed her eyes at her friend.

“There’s more to it than that. What’s going on, Gemma?”

“It’s Eddie.” She fluffed her titian hair and tossed her hat and gloves on the seat beside her. “He called yesterday afternoon, going on about how he was really going to straighten up this time, finish his clerkship and pass the bar. He wanted us to get back together and he asked me to go to dinner at his parents’ house with him, but I already had plans to go to the casino last night with Frenchy. I told him I’d moved on and to please not to call again.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t mention it yesterday.”

“I wanted to put it out of my mind so I could have a good time, which I did. I could tell by Eddie’s voice he was either drunk or high, and I won’t deal with him when he’s in that state, and I was a bit rude to him. I felt bad about it this morning, and tried to call, but he hasn’t answered his phone all day.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s just sleeping off his hangover and he’ll turn up again eventually, then you can apologize if you feel you need to. But don’t let his mistakes make you feel obligated toward him in any way.”

“I’m not, it’s just frustrating. I still care enough about him to want him to be happy and healthy, but he doesn’t seem interested in that for himself.”

“And you’ve told him numerous times where the line is, so don’t feel bad about enforcing it.”

“I know, I know.” The younger woman sighed. “I just want him to move on, like I have.”

“Speaking of which, are you coming to Henry’s with me for dinner this evening? Chef John is making coq au vin.” Venus asked. Since Club Phoenix had opened, she’d taken to going to Henry’s early, finishing dinner by seven and being back at the club before the eight o’clock opening. Gemma joined her when her schedule permitted.

“No, I’ll be working late tonight. I just dropped by on my way next door. I’ve already told Frenchy I won’t make it tonight.”

“Hopefully he won’t pout and mope tonight like he did the last time you couldn’t come.”

“Remind him that we have a real date for the theater tomorrow night and to stop sulking. If he can’t handle me working late now, he’ll have an even worse time once I make the bar.”

Venus smiled. Gemma had gotten over Frenchy’s employment situation quickly and it no longer bothered her that he worked for a gangster. Now it was Frenchy’s turn to deal with Gemma’s career choice for a far more traditional reason. Venus hoped Frenchy would prove himself to be a more modern man. 

+++

“It was definitely an overdose,” Dr. McMillan said. She was standing on the other side of the body of Eddie Spencer from Jack, jotting notes on her clipboard. “The toxicology report will give us a clearer picture but it was most likely cocaine, although not inhaled through the nose that I could tell. The quantity required to overdose would leave a residue in and around the nose.”

“Wouldn’t he just wipe it off?”

“There would still be some in the nostrils and nasal passages, but I didn’t find anything,” she said. 

“What else?”

“A few minor bruises, of varying ages, but nothing as recent as last night,” she said. “It’s possible he’s been in a fight or two, but not for a while.”

“Hugh said he used to spar with the victim at the boxing club.”

“Well, boxing would account for the two missing teeth on the left side of his mouth, and the reset nose, though I doubt Hugh was responsible for that damage. Most likely he was in some sort of underground boxing club at one time.”

“Hmm,” Jack mused as a clearer picture of Eddie Spencer was drawn through the autopsy.

“Speaking of sparring, where’s Phryne? Is she not helping you with this case?”

“She’s assisting her aunt with some charity luncheon today,” Jack said. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Mac gave him a sideways look. “She’ll get you for that, you know.”

“Probably,” Jack replied. 

“I did find this one unusual mark, here, on his ankle.” Mac continued. She moved to the end of the table and pointed to a small red spot, no bigger than the head of a pin, near the ankle bone on the inside of Eddie’s left leg with a tiny smear of blood around it.

“What do you make of that?” Jack asked.

“Injection site,” Mac said. “The blood smear indicates it was quite recent, possibly within the last 12 hours. Some users, especially women, will inject around the ankles or even between the toes to hide the marks that might appear on the arms. Did you find any syringes on him or nearby?”

“No, nothing like that,” Jack said. 

“Then I’d be looking for someone who assisted Mr. Spencer with his overdose,” Mac said. “Someone who took the syringe with them.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crime King and the Inspector finally meet face-to-face, but you can be sure they don't see eye-to-eye.  
> ++++

“Good news, sir,” Hugh said, poking his head into Jack’s office and Jack waved him in. “Gerald Hardy recognized the six rings we found on Eddie Spencer as being part of their inventory that was stolen in the big robbery.”

“Good,” Jack said. He rifled through several case files spread across his desk, pulling out one from under several layers and flipping pages.

“But he didn’t recognize the ring the boy, Jackie, found nearby.”

“We’ll start with what we know first,” Jack said. “Gerald Hardy said in his statement that one of the men in the robbery called the other one ‘Kozzy’. The original investigators didn’t follow up on that, so I had the Vice unit give me an updated list of known associates of Henry Stokes.” He plucked a sheet of paper out of his inbox. “According to this, Stokes has a man in his employ that goes by ‘Kozzy’. That ties the robbery to Stokes and the rings tie Eddie to the robbery.”

“Which ties Eddie to Henry Stokes.” Hugh’s brow creased in confusion and he huffed out a heavy breath. 

“What is it, Hugh?” 

“I’ve learned not to be shocked by some of the things people do, sir, but I don’t understand how the son of a police officer could get involved with a hardened criminal like Henry Stokes.”

“We don’t know how involved they are,” Jack said. “The robbers both wore masks, of course, but from what the Hardys and their employees could see, neither man had blonde hair like Eddie. I think there’s some other reason why rings from the robbery ended up in Eddie’s pockets.”

“This morning you indicated that Stokes had a beef with Inspector Spencer,” Hugh said. “What was that about?”

“Inspector Spencer raided one of Stokes’ warehouses last year. According to the report, merchandise worth several thousand pounds was confiscated and three of Stokes’ men ended up in gaol and two more passed through St. Vincent’s on their way to gaol. Stokes made it clear at the time that he would not let that raid go unanswered, but so far it’s been an empty threat.”

“You think Stokes killed Eddie to get revenge on Inspector Spencer?”

“It’s possible. If he found out Eddie was addicted to drugs, an overdose would be good cover for a murder. Stokes doesn’t typically kill people, although some think he arranged the shootout that killed Squizzy Taylor. Personally, I think Stokes doesn’t like to get his hands too dirty. He’s more likely to swindle you out of money or property than outright kill you. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be having a friendly chat with the Crime King of Melbourne.”

“Friendly, sir?”

“We will be, Collins,” Jack said. “Let’s hope Mr. Stokes will return the favor.”

+++

Jack parked the police car a few doors down from Henry Stokes’ casino and checked his watch: four o’clock. He’d waited until later in the afternoon to ensure that Stokes would be in, preparing for business that evening. Despite being a gangster, Stokes was a man of order and routine, and an interruption in his routine - like a visit from the police during an important time of day - might throw him off guard enough to reveal some helpful information. 

“There’s something you should know before we go in, Collins.” Jack turned to Hugh before they got out of the car.

“What’s that, sir?”

“If Miss Fisher is to be believed, Mr. Stokes and I bear a striking resemblance to each other.” Jack was uncomfortable mentioning this twist of fate, but it had to be done. “I’ve never met him before so I can’t confirm it, and I don’t know if Stokes knows it or not, either, but it could be startling for both of us. I just wanted you to be aware of it.”

“Does that bother you, sir? That you look like a gangster?” A twitch of a smile played at the corner of Hugh’s mouth.

Jack leveled a withering look at his constable. “It’s not something I’d like advertised.”

“Of course not, sir.” Hugh schooled his expression quickly. 

“I need you to keep a level head in there,” Jack instructed. “Stokes will have his men around, and I’ll need you to have your eyes on them while I focus on Stokes. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Hugh nodded. 

“Let’s go then.” They exited the car and Jack led the way to the entrance. Under his suit coat, the comforting weight of his service revolver rested snugly against his left rib cage in the new holster Phryne had bought him. He hoped it would stay there until they returned to the station. 

+++

“Mr. Stokes, there’s a copper out here wants to talk to you,” said Snag, pushing aside the curtain.

Henry looked up from his ledger. It had been a while since the jacks had made an appearance at his headquarters, but they tended to barge their way in during the height of the evening’s festivities as part of a raid. He’d never had one stop by and request an audience so early in the day. 

He glanced at Venus, who was in her usual spot on the other side of the desk, her feet propped up, smoking prettily. She lowered her cigarette and returned his wary gaze. 

“What’s his name?” Henry asked, and Snag handed Stokes a calling card. “Well, well. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of City South,” Henry stroked his beard. “I wonder what’s brought him here.” He looked at Venus again. 

“This could be interesting,” she said, a slow grin forming. “I’ve never been in the same room with two handsome men who look exactly alike,” she purred, teasing him. 

“He’s still a cop, Venus,” he rolled his eyes. “Probably not a good idea to treat him like a customer.”

“Oh, I know, I’ll be good.” She sighed and took another puff. He narrowed his eyes at her. Since her club had opened a few weeks ago, she’d started treating every adult male like a potential client. Henry knew it was an act, a natural persona she slipped into in public now that her business was up and running, and most of the time he didn’t care. This time felt more threatening, somehow.

“What?” she asked in response to his glare.

“Give me your ring and come stand by my chair,” he said.

“Would it be better if I waited in the back?” she asked.

“No, I want you beside me.” She was his partner now, in business and life, and her supportive presence was the General to his Field Marshall. Plus, having her behind his desk, behind him, put a barrier between her and Inspector Robinson.

Venus nodded her understanding. She handed him her ring and he quickly hid it in a false bottom of a desk drawer, then locked the desk. When she was standing just behind his left shoulder, he looked back up at Snag. 

“Send him in. And bring Biggo and Cooper back in with you.” He leaned back in his chair and waited for his doppleganger to appear. A moment later, the curtain swished aside and Robinson entered with a constable in tow. A barely audible curse escaped Venus' lips, and he was inclined to agree. Aside from the shot of adrenaline that always accompanied an encounter with police, there was an additional surge of shock. The resemblance was uncanny and Henry clenched his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping. Not surprisingly, he noticed a similar clench of the Inspector’s jaw. Resemblance, indeed. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stokes,” Robinson said. “I’m Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, and this is Constable Collins. I’m wondering if we might have a few moments of your time.” Robinson’s eyes flicked quickly around the room as he spoke, sizing up everything, including Snag, Biggo, and Cooper posting guard, and lingering for an extra second on Venus, as well as the glass-fronted gun cabinet. 

Henry waited a beat before responding, considering all his options. Robinson’s serious and confident demeanor signaled loud and clear his inability to be compromised; there would be no deal-making with this one. On the other hand, Robinson didn’t have to be polite, but he was, and Henry appreciated the respect. This was going to be an interesting conversation. 

“By all means, Inspector,” Henry finally replied. “Have a seat.” He waved his hand at the chairs opposite his desk. Robinson appeared ready to decline, but his expression changed and he dipped his head in acknowledgement and moved toward the chairs. 

“Thank you.” 

“This is my business partner and fiancee’, Venus DeRosier,” Henry said. 

“Madam DeRosier, of Club Phoenix, I presume?” Robinson said.

“That’s correct, Inspector.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Madame.” Robinson bowed his head in her direction, but made no move to shake hands. 

“Likewise,” she said.

Robinson took a seat, setting his hat in the chair next to him, and his constable took up a position behind him, notebook at the ready. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, gentlemen?” Henry asked.

“Just a few questions about a case.”

“My understanding is you’re the top homicide detective in Melbourne,” Henry said. “You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t a dead body.”

“That’s true, Mr. Stokes; we are investigating a suspicious death. Would you mind telling me where you were last night?”

Robinson had no qualms about getting right to the point. Henry wanted to know who died and why that would bring the cops to his door, but he knew better than to appear too interested right away. “I was here all night, running my business. You are free to interview any of my staff.”

“Until what time?”

“About two in the morning, when Frenchy drove me home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Number 450 Albert Street,” Henry said. Robinson’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he made no other indications that he knew the address was for Club Phoenix. Behind him the constable scribbled in his notebook.

“A year ago, our Vice Unit executed a raid on one of your warehouses, confiscating merchandise and arresting several of your men.” Robinson said, trying to catch Henry off guard with the change of subject, but he expected this tactic from the inspector. “At that time, you were quoted as threatening to retaliate against the officer who led the raid, Detective Inspector Jim Spencer, isn’t that right?”

“Someone killed Spencer?” That would be disconcerting news, if true. 

“No, Inspector Spencer is fine. Please answer the question: Did you threaten retaliation against him?”

Henry exhaled his relief as quietly as possible. “Last time I looked, Inspector Robinson, a mere threat is not a crime, otherwise I would have been locked up already. And Spencer is still alive, so…” he spread his hands, palms up, the logical conclusion obvious. 

Robinson nodded, then moved on. “Do you remember where you were around two pm on the fifteenth of last month?” Another switching of gears, and not a pleasant one, but Henry made a show of shrugging it off.

“Not off the top of my head, no. What happened then?”

“That was the day Hardy Brother’s Jewelry store was robbed.”

“I’m sure I wasn’t there,” Henry said easily.

“That must have been the day you brought the cats over,” Venus said. “I remember reading about the robbery in the paper the next day.”

“Quite right,” Henry said. He stifled a smile at how perfectly Venus provided his alibi without him ever having to say a word.

“Cats?” Robinson asked. 

“Yes, Madam DeRoseir had indicated she needed a good mouser at Club Phoenix, so I procured a pair of them for her. We spent some time talking business, as well, so I was there for about two hours.” That wasn’t all they’d done that afternoon, but Robinson didn’t need to know about the incredible blow job Venus had given him behind the closed door of her office, or how she’d had to scream into a throw pillow when he’d made her come with his tongue. If Henry had allowed a self-satisfied smirk to creep into his expression, Robinson’s next question wiped it right off.

“Mr. Stokes, do you have a man in your employ who goes by the nickname ‘Kozzy’?”

“I do.” Apprehension tickled up Henry’s spine as Robinson’s line of questioning became clearer and circled closer. 

“Where was he on that same afternoon?”

“He was here when I left, helping Woody the bartender unload a shipment, and he was here when I returned.” 

“So you don’t know what Kozzy was doing while you weren’t here that afternoon?”

“I don’t keep my men on a chain, Inspector. They have their own lives outside of what they do for me. As long as the work gets done, I’m not one to track their every move.”

“What about last night?”

Henry narrowed his eyes at Robinson, who stared back, unflinching. It was like looking in a damned mirror. 

“Kozzy was on the door with Snag all night,” Henry answered. Robinson nodded slowly and paused before speaking again. 

“Is he here now?”

“No, he’s working at another location today.”

“I’m going to need to talk to him. Where is this other location?”

“I tell you what, Inspector. I’ll have him working here at this time tomorrow if you want to come by then.”

Robinson’s eyes darkened. He didn’t like that response; it was clear he wanted answers right away. But the Inspector didn’t have a warrant or he would have said so, and Henry wanted to talk to Kozzy before he was interviewed by the police. He glanced at Cooper who nodded and ducked out of the room - he would contact Kozzy at the other location and bring him in so the jacks wouldn’t get to him first. 

After a brief staring contest, Robinson changed the subject again. “Do you know a young man called James Edwin Spencer, Junior; goes by ‘Eddie’?”

“No. Is he related to your Inspector Spencer?” Henry asked, but Robinson’s eyes moved to focus on Venus for a moment. She must have reacted to the name, and that concerned Henry, but he wasn’t going to look at her. 

“He’s Inspector Spencer’s son,” Robinson explained. “Or, was. He was found dead this morning.”

Venus sniffed and cleared her throat in response to the bomb Robinson had dropped, and the inspector looked at her again. Henry’s apprehension escalated to worry: How did Venus know the dead man? And how would he cover for her?

“Did you know him, Madam DeRosier?” Robinson maintained a poker face, but a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth indicated his satisfaction at hooking a bite. 

“I thought you were here to question me,” Henry said, leaning forward on his desk and glaring at Robinson. 

“I’ll question whoever I need to to solve the case,” Robinson said, smugly asserting his ability to do just that, then looked at Venus again. “Madam DeRosier?”

“Someone I know mentioned him in passing, once,” she said, affecting a bored tone.

“Does that person have a name?”

“Can’t remember at the moment,” she said. 

“And where were you last night, Madam DeRosier?”

“At my club, of course. Like Mr. Stokes, I also have a business to run, Inspector, and I’m not going to leave during operating hours.” 

“How did Eddie Spencer die?” Henry asked, hoping to take Robinson’s focus off Venus.

“I’m not at liberty to say at this time, Mr. Stokes, but I’m sure you understand the nature of my inquiry: You threatened Inspector Spencer, and now his son has been found dead.” 

Henry understood the game; the cops drop part of the information, then wait for the suspect to run with it, declare innocence, or otherwise incriminate himself. He had no intention of playing that game with Robinson, however. The man was formidable, and there was no doubt he would solve the murder of Eddie Spencer. He may even solve the Hardy Brothers’ Jewelry heist, as well, which concerned Henry greatly. But for the time being, however, Henry could still drop a few surprises of his own. 

“You might find this unusual, Inspector, but please pass on my condolences to Inspector Spencer. We disagreed on a variety of legal issues, but I wouldn’t wish the death of a child on anyone.”

To his credit, Robinson looked sufficiently surprised and understanding. “Thank you, Mr. Stokes, I’ll do that.” Sensing he wasn’t going to get any more information out of Henry for now, Robinson paused and glanced down a moment before continuing. “I have just one more question.”

“Yes?”

“Were you aware of our resemblance before I walked in here today?”

The corner of Henry’s mouth curled up. He’d been wondering if the topic would arise and he was glad Robinson’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. 

“I did. I’d read the article in the Argus about your travels with Miss Fisher.”

“I wouldn’t believe everything you read, Mr. Stokes. The Argus tends to exaggerate.”

“All the same, it sounded like quite the adventure.”

“It was.”

“I'm sure you are wondering how this came to be, as I was,” Henry said. “So I asked my solicitor to discreetly research our families at the registry office to see if we were related.”

“Are we?” Robinson’s curiosity was even more piqued.

“Not that he could find. It appears to be a curious quirk of fate.”

“Indeed,” Robinson nodded. They looked at each other for another moment, this time as men rather than adversaries, and a flicker of kinship danced on the edge of Henry’s psyche. He would have to ponder that later because Robinson stood to go.

“That’s all for now, Mr. Stokes. Thank you for your time. I’ll be sending someone over tomorrow to interview Kozzy, but I may be back myself as the case progresses.”

Henry stood up as well. “I won’t promise you the answers you’re looking for, Inspector, but you’re welcome to come by anytime.” He held out his hand to Robinson, somehow unable to resist the small pleasantry, despite Robinson’s worrisome questions. 

“Understood,” Robinson said, and allowed himself to shake hands with Henry. Even their hands were the same, Henry noted, large and square, and offering a firm shake. “Good day, Mr. Stokes, Madam DeRosier.”

Henry stood still, holding his breath until he heard the front door shut, then he immediately turned to Venus.

“Shit,” she declared before he could speak. 

“Come here,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into his hidden office and locking the door.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Venus repeated, pacing the small space.

“How did you know Spencer’s son?” Henry asked, a little too forcefully as the adrenaline caromed wildly through his body. Venus looked at him with indignation. “Sorry, I’m not angry, I’m just trying to sort it out.”

“Gemma used to date him,” Venus said. She continued to pace and run her hand through her curls. “They were law school sweethearts, but she broke it off with him not long before I met her. He came by one time to drop off something, but I only said hello to him and then walked away.”

“Would Gemma have a reason to kill him?”

“Of course not!” Venus declared. “She only wished him well. Besides, she was here for most of the night last night, wasn’t she? With Frenchy?”

“Yeah, she was here until about midnight.”

“She did tell me this afternoon that he called her yesterday, asked her to go to dinner at his parents house and that he wanted to get back together. But that ship has well and truly sailed with Gemma and she was worried she’d been too harsh with him.”

Henry exhaled a long breath. “I don’t think you don’t have to worry about Gemma, then.”

“No, but Gemma has to worry about Inspector Robinson,” Venus insisted.

“So call her.” Henry said. 

“No, I’ll tell her in person. She’s working late tonight with Mr. Prentiss.” She made for the door, determination in her step, but Henry caught her arm.

“Venus,” he rasped, pulling her to him.

“What?” Her body was stiff with worry about Gemma, and she was looking toward the door.

“Look at me,” he said and she did. “Take a deep breath and relax.” He pressed his forehead to hers, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. In a moment, she was doing the same and her body melted against his. 

“You’re not the only one wound up by Inspector Robinson’s visit,” he said. When Robinson had mentioned the jewelry store robbery it rattled him, and that usually never happened. But then he’d never encountered a cop like Robinson.

Venus rested her cheek on his chest and slipped her hands inside his jacket and held him. “It was a lot at once,” she said. “All his questions about the raid last year and the robbery last month, the news about Eddie, my stupid reaction…” she trailed off. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s all right, you didn’t give him anything concrete.”

“Plus the spooky resemblance,” she added. “I couldn’t believe it. I don’t blame you for being in a bit of a state.” 

“Eh, I’m all right now,” Henry downplayed her concern. Simply holding her was easing the tension. “The worst part is that I didn’t hate him,” Henry admitted. 

“You will if he arrests you,” she said. 

“He won’t. He doesn’t have any hard evidence, or he would have arrested me today.”

“Henry, if he was here because Eddie died, why was he asking you about the jewelry robbery?”

Henry froze. Why indeed. “Maybe Spencer was the one who robbed Kozzy and Grint.” For anyone else, that would be a ridiculous leap, but not for a criminal like himself.

“How would the cops know? And why would he ask about Kozzy and not Grint?”

“Because Grint is stupid and must have used Kozzy’s name during the robbery,” Henry answered her second question first. “But Eddie Spencer must have had some of the merchandise on him that they were able to trace back to Hardy Brothers. What did he look like?” 

“Eddie? Oh, let’s see. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pointed nose, and thin lips and missing a couple teeth, though the teeth might be from the drugs.”

“Drugs?”

“He was jittery and had a runny nose, too. Cocaine will do that to you.”

“Your description sounds like the one Kozzy and Grint got from a couple of the pawn brokers they talked to.”

“And selling off those rings would be enough to fuel a drug habit.”

“He was probably killed by his dealer,” Henry concluded. 

“Either way, I need to get to Gemma before Inspector Robinson does.” Venus leaned back from Henry’s embrace, but he wasn’t ready to let her go yet. 

“Kiss me first,” he said, and she nodded. Her mouth was warm and welcoming, pushing his worries aside and bolstering his confidence. When they finally pulled back and looked at each other, everything felt right again. 

“Let’s get your ring so you can go,” he said, taking her hand again and walking her back out to his desk. 

“Hiding the ring was a very smart move,” she commented. 

“So was asking you to marry me,” he said as he slipped The Phoenix opal back on her left ring finger.

“Three more weeks,” she said, looking up at him.

“Can’t wait,” he smiled.  
+++


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say "Where's Phryne?" Don't worry, gentle readers, she's here!  
> ++++

“Gemma, I need you to come over here as soon as you can,” Venus said without preamble when her friend answered the phone. 

“What’s wrong? Are you alright, Venus?”

“Just come over right away.” She hung up the phone and paced her office, trying to keep calm. Outside her office door, the club was humming with activity as everyone prepared for the night’s business. The girls were chatting and laughing in the dressing room across the hall, the bartenders were sweeping and resetting tables and chairs in the bar above, and Mrs. Merkle and her sweet, Aboriginal helper Lowanna were creating delightful aromas in the kitchen. The activity in Venus’ heart and mind, however, was decidedly less cheerful as she prepared herself to deliver the bad news.

A few minutes later there was a knock on her office door and Gemma entered without waiting. “I came as quickly as I could,” she said, shutting and locking the door behind her. “What’s wrong, Venus?” 

Venus led her to the sofa and held her hands as they sat. There was no easy way to say it. “Gemma, it’s Eddie. He’s dead.”

“What?!” 

Venus simply nodded and watched Gemma’s expression move from shock to distress to pain.

“How? What happened?”

“I don’t know any more than that,” Venus said. “A police detective came by Henry’s this afternoon and mentioned it. I’m so sorry, Gemma.”

“No, Eddie…” Gemma whispered, her voice constricted and her hand went to her mouth as she started to cry. Venus handed her a handkerchief from her dress pocket that she’d put there in advance, and held her friend close. 

“He would have been a brilliant lawyer,” Gemma said after a few minutes, sniffing back the last of her tears and leaning out of Venus’ embrace. “He wasn’t top of the class, but he was so clever. He could see through all the legal jargon and weave a beautiful, unique argument out of the barest threads of a case. It was almost artistic. But he had a few demons, and the stress of law school and clerkship tended to bring them out.” She sighed “The drugs helped him focus for a while, but then the drugs became the demon.” She shook her head and sighed. “I tried to help him, but he wouldn’t stop.”

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Venus soothed.

“That’s why I waited so long to break things off with him,” she continued. “He needed someone who understood him because he wasn’t like your typical lawyer. But I had my own work to focus on, and when he couldn’t get the drugs he was horrible to be around.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Venus assured her. 

“I know, I just wish I hadn’t been so harsh with him yesterday.”

“You couldn’t know. You can’t berate yourself for it.” 

“And you don’t know what happened?”

“No, Inspector Robinson wouldn’t say.”

Gemma perked up at the mention of the name. “Inspector Robinson? From City South?” Venus nodded and Gemma let out a low whistle. “Eddie’s father was always talking about what an excellent investigator Inspector Robinson is. What was he doing at Henry’s place? Why was he asking Henry about Eddie?”

“He said Eddie’s death was suspicious and he thinks Henry might have something to do with it.”

“Not Henry,” Gemma declared. “He wouldn’t kill anyone; even I can see what a softie he is under all that gangster bravado.”

“The police don’t see it that way, and they’ve known him a lot longer than we have. Last year, after a raid on one of Henry’s warehouses, Henry vowed to retaliate. The officer who led the raid was Eddie’s father.”

“Oh, Venus,” Gemma’s face fell. “They really think Henry killed Eddie to get back at his father?”

“They don’t have enough evidence yet, or they would have arrested him today,” Venus said. “But I can’t say I’m not worried. Henry was at his club until two am and came straight here afterward.” A thought struck Venus and she looked Gemma in the eyes. “You went straight home after you left Henry’s casino, right?”

“Of course,” Gemma said. “I was exhausted and went right to sleep. You don’t think I -”

“No, of course not, but you better get yourself a solicitor just in case. Inspector Robinson will find out about your connection to Eddie, and if he gives you half the interrogation he gave us today, you’ll need it.”

“I will, but Venus, what are you going to do about Henry? We both know he didn’t do it. You need to find a way to prove his innocence.”

“I’d like to think the police would do that, but their job is trying to arrest the guilty, not prove anyone’s innocence.”

“Does Henry have a solicitor?”

“I know he has at least one who put together our partnership contract for the club, but the man doesn’t do much more than shuffle papers. I don’t think he’d be the best person to entrust with this.”

“If only there was someone who is not a police officer and not a lawyer, but who can do the work of both,” Gemma mused. 

A crazy thought came to Venus and she got up from the sofa and went to her desk and took out a small box holding a variety of calling cards. “I think I know just the person,” she said, flipping through the stack and taking a certain card out of the box. “How about a private detective?” she said, holding the card up for Gemma to see.

“A private detective?” Gemma was intrigued and moved to one of the chairs in front of Venus’ desk.

“A private, LADY detective,” Venus added, handing Gemma the card.

“Miss Phryne Fisher,” Gemma read aloud. “Even better.”

“And even better than that, THE private lady detective who just so happens to be romantically linked to Inspector Robinson.” 

“You would hire Miss Fisher to prove Henry’s innocence while her lover was trying to prove Henry’s guilt?” Gemma’s eyes went wide and Venus nodded. “Well, that’s just diabolical,” Gemma added, and they both laughed. 

+++

Another foggy Melbourne morning found Jack standing several yards behind Jim Spencer in the man’s rear yard that backed up to undeveloped property along the Yarra. Spencer was firing his service revolver at a row of bottles and cans set up about thirty yards away, hitting one with every shot. Jack waited until Jim lowered the gun to reload.

“Oi, Jim.” 

“Jack,” Jim said, startled. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.”

“Impressive shooting,” Jack remarked.

“It helps me focus, remain calm.” Jim looked down and his hand shook slightly. “Sarah sent me out here this morning. She knew what I needed.”

“Can we talk?” Jack asked.

“Of course,” Jim said and indicated a pair of hay bales where he’d left his box of bullets and a thermos. “Tea?”

“No, thanks.” Jack settled himself on a hay bale and took out his notebook and pencil. “You know I need to ask you some questions,” he began. He decided to avoid asking Jim how he was doing; he didn’t want to upset the man any further. Focusing on the facts, the case, would be less emotional. 

“I understand. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

“How long had Eddie been using drugs.”

“Since his final year in law school, so about three years, off and on,” Jim said. I didn’t know about it at all until six months ago when his clerkship started to falter and he confessed everything to me. Eddie loved the law and he had a brilliant mind, but it worked differently than most lawyers’ and the professors didn’t understand him. The confusion and pressure took its toll.”

“Who were his close associates?”

“He had a sweetheart in law school, Gemma Smith. They graduated together and she was very good for him. She understood him when most didn’t. But Eddie relapsed and I think his drug use finally was too much for her and she broke things off. That was about three months ago. He told me the other day that they were going to get back together and he was going to propose.”

“Do you know where I might find Miss Smith?”

“She clerks for Mr. Prentiss, in Albert Street.” Jack’s pencil stopped and he looked up at Jim. 

“Albert Street?” That street name had come up several times already, which meant it was not a coincidence. 

“Yeah, his office is right next to that old brick pile that used to be a funeral home,” Jim added. “But Gemma said it’s been empty since before she started working there. You can’t miss the place.” Jack merely nodded. He wasn’t ready to reveal what he knew about Mr. Prentiss’ new next door neighbors.

“Anyone else Eddie was friends with?” Jack asked. “Any mates he went to the pub with for example?”

“I know he used to get together with your Constable, Collins is it?” Jack nodded and Jim continued. “And a couple of the other clerks he worked with.”

“Where did he clerk?”

“With Mr. Marcus Levin, in Collins Street,” Jim said. “Top appointment; we were so proud.” 

“Any other girlfriends after he and Miss Smith broke up?”

“There was one girl he mentioned,” Jim said. “I can’t recall her name, exactly. Zelda or Zinnia or something with a Z, and no last name. I think she was one of those flappers. Eddie used to say he was going dancing with her, but nothing else. Didn’t sound like it was going to be a permanent romance.”

“Was he living here with you?”

“No, he kept a flat on James Street near Barkly Gardens.”

“Roommates?”

“No.”

“That’s a nice section of town and I know clerkships don’t pay very much. Did you loan him money?”

“No, he never asked.”

“Does Eddie own a gun?”

“I loaned him one of my old service revolvers,” Jim nodded. “I knew he worked long hours for Mr. Levin and I wanted him to be able to protect himself, and Gemma, too, when they were out at night. He told me he got into a fight one night on the way back from the theater. Some bloke tried to assault him and Gemma on the street and Eddie fought him off, but lost a couple teeth. I didn’t want that to happen again.” Jim took a deep, but shaky breath and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Damnit!” Jim burst to his feet and shouted at the sky. “Damnit, damnit, damnit!”

“Steady on, Jim.” Jack stood and reached out a hand toward the distraught father. 

“No! I don’t want to ‘steady on’!” Jim yelled, wheeling on Jack. “I want my son back! I want to help him and make it right for him! What kind of father must everyone think I am? Every week I’m arresting drug dealers and my own son dies of an overdose! I failed, Jack! I failed my son, I failed my wife…”

“No, Jim, you’re not a failure.” Jack spoke calmly, his hands gesturing for Jim to slow down. 

“I could have stopped him,” Jim insisted. “I could have saved him!”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Jack didn’t want to give Jim’s idea too much credence. “Eddie made his own choices.”

“But he didn’t choose to die!” Jim shouted. “You said the death was suspicious! The medical examiner said it was an injection. Someone did that to him, Jack! Someone killed my son! And when I find out who-”

“When we find out who you’ll let the law take care of it,” Jack said firmly, raising his voice just above Jim’s. 

Jim stared hard at Jack, his breath huffing like a caged animal. Jack stared right back, knowing he had to stop Jim’s thoughts of revenge in their tracks. Eventually, Jim looked away and flopped back down on the hay bale. He rubbed his face with his hands and choked back a sob then took a few deep breaths.

“I want you to keep me informed on every bit of evidence, every interview, everything,” Jim said when he’d calmed down.

“You know I can’t give you everything, Jim,” Jack said. “Especially now that you expressed your willingness to take matters into your own hands.”

“Bollocks,” Jim cursed, but his body language showed he was chastened. 

“You know we’re doing everything we can to find whoever did this.”

“I know you are, Jack,” Jim nodded. “Other than myself, I wouldn’t want anyone else investigating. I know you’ll bring Eddie’s killer to justice.”

“I’ll keep you informed as best as I can. Right now, you need to be there for Sarah, alright?

“You’re right,” Jim nodded.

“And I’m available any time for whatever you need,” Jack said. “Even if it’s just to talk.”

“Thanks, mate.” 

Jack held out his hand and Jim stood to shake it, then pulled Jack in for a rough hug - a rarity among Australian men. Jack didn’t take it lightly. 

+++

“Did you know Inspector Spencer, Miss?” Dot asked. She was sitting at the end of the bed opposite Phryne, sharing breakfast and discussing the tragic story of Eddie Spencer that was detailed in the morning paper. 

“I’d met him a few times,” Phryne said. “Mostly in passing at the station, but did spend a few moments chatting with him and his lovely wife at the Victoria Police Foundation fundraising ball last month. Very nice people, such a tragedy.”

“Are you helping the Inspector with the case?”

“We discussed it last night. I had to take him to task for not inviting me to the morgue yesterday, thereby rescuing me from Aunt Prudence’s Hospital Auxiliary garden party.” Phryne laid the sarcasm on thick and Dot laughed.

“You’d think the Inspector would know better by now,” Dot mused with a tease in her voice.

“You’d think,” Phryne replied. “Anyway, Mac says it was a fatal drug overdose, most likely by injection with a syringe. No syringes were found anywhere on or near the deceased, so whoever did it took it with them. Sadly, young Mr. Spencer was already an addict, so he may have trusted the person who injected him.”

“Hugh told me he and the Inspector interviewed the gangster, Henry Stokes, yesterday. He wouldn’t tell me what they talked about, but said it was really creepy how much Mr. Stokes looks like the Inspector.”

“I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for that conversation, just to see them in the same room together.” Not only had Jack not invited her to the morgue, he’d left her completely in the dark about his visit to Stokes’ headquarters until he got home from work. She was trying not to be grumpy about it. 

“Hugh said Mr. Stokes and the Inspector talked about their resemblance and even shook hands before they left. Hugh said the Inspector hardly ever does that when interviewing a suspect.”

“All right, Dot, that’s enough. You’re just making me jealous.”

“Sorry, Miss,” Dot said, but with a grin and a small laugh. “So does the Inspector suspect Henry Stokes?”

“Not directly, no, although it’s possible one of his men did the deed,” Phryne said. “Stokes’ alibi is solid: Mac put time of death between nine and eleven pm, and Stokes was at his casino until two am.”

“So what are you going to do today?” Dot asked. “Interview suspects, talk to old girlfriends, look for more clues?”

“Unfortunately none of that,” Phryne said with a huff. “Jack says the Chief Commissioner wants all the investigating done by police because it involves the family member of a police officer. Says he’s just following orders and something about accountability and keeping it in house,” she waved her hand dismissively at the notion. “But he promised he’d keep me informed and accept my verbal input.”

“He’s not going to make you a Special Constable this time, Miss?”

Phryne narrowed her eyes at the teasing twinkle in Dot’s, then grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it at her companion’s head. Dot squealed and laughed, and Phryne couldn’t help but join her. She still had Jack’s old tin badge in her jewelry box just in case. 

“Miss?” Mr. Butler knocked at the door and Phryne called for him to enter. “There’s a phone call for you downstairs. Someone named Venus DeRosier.”

“Well, this is an interesting development,” Phryne said, her mind snapping into focus. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

“Hugh said she was there yesterday when they interviewed Mr. Stokes,” Dot said. “Mr. Stokes introduced her as his fiancee’.”

“So I heard,” Phryne said. “I wonder what she would be calling about?” She hopped out of bed and grabbed her robe and flitted down the stairs. 

“This is Phryne Fisher.”

“Miss Fisher, this is Venus DeRosier. I don’t know if you remember me, we met at Minnie Cruise’s nail salon some weeks back and you gave me your card.”

“Of course I remember you,” Phryne said. “Were you able to speak to Dr. McMillan?”

“Yes, she and I have spoken and I’ve engaged her services. But I’m calling you about something else. I’d like to hire you.”

Excitement tingled Phryne’s nerves as it always did when a new case presented itself. “Go on,” she said.

“I’d rather not speak over the phone, would you be willing to meet me today?” Phryne said she would and Venus gave her an address on Albert Street. “I don’t believe I mentioned when we first met that I’m the owner of Club Phoenix.”

“All the more reason for discretion,” Phryne said. “I can be there in an hour.”

“I’ll see you then.”

+++

Venus was waiting drowsily on the stairs and jumped when Miss Fisher rang the bell. She’d slept restlessly, wondering if she was making the right decision, and worrying about Henry. When he’d awoken in the gray hour before dawn and found her sitting up in bed, he asked her what was wrong. She had told him it was nothing and to go back to sleep. When he’d arisen at eight for a nine o’clock appointment and a long day of checking inventory at his various warehouses, she’d taken that as her cue to call Miss Fisher to see if she could meet with her while he was out. She took a deep breath and answered the door.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Fisher.” Venus welcomed her in. 

“Thank you for calling me. It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Venus said and shook Miss Fisher’s proffered hand. “Please, come this way.” Venus led her to her parlor and waved at the chairs across from her desk. “Have a seat. Shall I call for some tea?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Miss Fisher said, glancing around. “This is a lovely room. I feel as if I’m ensconced on a Grecian urn.”

“Thank you,” Venus said, sharing a smile with her guest. “The majority of the building is similarly decorated. I wanted something unique and not quite as heavy-handed as is typical of this type of business.”

“I believe you have accomplished that quite well,” Miss Fisher said. “So how would you like me to help you?”

“First of all, Miss Fisher, I need you to know that I’ve done a little research on you.”

“As well you should.”

“Aside from your professional and social accomplishments, I understand that you are close to Detective Inspector Robinson.”

“That’s right. We are partners in work and in life.”

“And I’m certain you’ve heard about a case he’s working on, the death of Eddie Spencer.”

“Yes, I’m aware of it.”

“Are you working on that case with him?”

“Actually, no.”

“Good, because that’s what I want to talk to you about. I was present yesterday afternoon when Inspector Robinson questioned my fiance’, Henry Stokes, about Eddie’s death. It seems the Inspector suspects Henry might have something to do with it.”

“I believe it’s one of his areas of inquiry.”

“I want to hire you to prove Henry is innocent.”

Miss Fisher’s eyebrows arched up in surprise for a brief moment, then she gave Venus a wise but curious look. “You do realize I’d be working against the conventional wisdom of the Victoria Police Force.”

“Of course, that’s what I’m expecting.”

“And are you willing to accept the fact that I might discover Mr. Stokes is guilty?”

“I firmly believe you won’t.” Venus asserted. “And I need someone unbiased.”

“I try to be objective about every case I work on, Madam DeRosier, but you don’t find my association with Inspector Robinson to be a conflict of interest to your cause?”

“After meeting Inspector Robinson yesterday, I believe he will be fair, but I’m sure there is pressure for the police to solve this case quickly since it involves one of their own.”

“Inspector Robinson is no stranger to standing up to his superiors for the sake of justice.”

“But his agenda is to find the guilty party, not to ensure the innocence of anyone on the suspect list.”

“True.” Miss Fisher paused and looked at Venus for a moment, considering. “Well, Madam DeRosier, if you don’t mind me working in tandem with Inspector Robinson, then I am willing to take your case.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” Venus said with a smile.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Phryne are on the case - though from different angles. Jack may have his reservations about that, but we all know it's a good thing.

The relief in Madam DeRosier’s eyes was obvious when Phryne agreed to take the case. She wouldn’t normally have offered her services on behalf of a known and notorious gangster but there were several things working in Madam DeRosier’s favor. Firstly, Jack had already expressed to Phryne his belief that Stokes wasn’t the culprit, though he may have ordered one of his men to do the job. Secondly, it gave her an opportunity to work with Jack, even though he would certainly fuss at her about it initially. Thirdly, it gave her an excellent reason to interview Henry Stokes herself and satisfy her curiosity about Jack’s look-alike. 

“So tell me what you know, Madam DeRosier,” Phryne said. 

“I know that Henry was at his casino until two am that night and was home by two-fifteen. My club closes at midnight, but I was still awake when he returned.”

“So Mr. Stokes lives here, with you?”

“Yes, he moved in about a week before the club opened.”

“Do you know all of his men?”

“I know a good dozen of them on sight, some better than others. One of them even works as a doorman here a few nights a week.”

“The police suspect Mr. Stokes because he made a verbal threat against Inspector Spencer last year. Are there any of Mr. Stokes’ men who you think would want to impress the boss by hurting Inspector Spencer in this way?”

“I don’t believe so, but most aren’t really clever enough for something like that anyway.”

“How long have you known Mr. Stokes?”

“About three months. We met about a month or so after I moved to town.”

Phryne itched to ask Madam DeRosier about what happened to her club in Sydney, but it was not relevant and wouldn’t win her any points with the madam. “Do you think that’s enough time to know him well enough to believe he wouldn’t kill someone?” she asked instead.

“Miss Fisher, I’ve spent time with a lot of men, many of them in the same kind of business as Henry Stokes. I’ve become rather adept at figuring them out quickly.”

“I’m sure you have,” Phryne replied, swallowing her pride. There was no need to show off her own experience with men in this particular context. “Has Mr. Stokes ever mentioned his grudge against Inspector Spencer?”

“Only once. Inspector Spencer’s name came up in conversation over dinner not long after we’d met. Henry mentioned the raid and something about waiting for an opportunity to respond. He’s said nothing since then.”

“Would he, though? Discuss his plans to respond to the raid, I mean?”

“Miss Fisher, I’m hiring you to prove Henry is innocent, not collect information that would do the opposite.”

“And if you don’t tell me the truth, then I can’t compare it to any false charges the police might file.”

Venus stared at Phryne, the weight of her decision reflected in her eyes. Phryne tried to put herself in the other woman’s shoes, knowing how hard it would be to reveal certain pieces of information that might be incriminating if Jack was ever falsely accused. But she didn’t soften her stance and waited for Venus to comprehend. 

Finally the madam’s eyes dropped and she sighed. “No. No he wouldn’t tell me everything, and he certainly wouldn’t tell me if he was planning to have someone killed. He would know that I wouldn’t approve, and I know he values my input and approval.”

Phryne smiled. That was good news. “Which also means he wouldn’t do the deed at all for fear it would get back to you that he had, putting him in your crosshairs.”

“Very true, Miss Fisher,” Venus nodded at the logic, with a small smile of relief. 

“Did you know the deceased?” Phryne asked. 

“I had only met him briefly one time. He was talking to a friend of mine, but I merely said hello and walked away, not wanting to intrude on their conversation.”

“Was this friend of yours a close associate of Eddie Spencer’s?” 

“I believe they had been close once, but not at the time that I met him. And no, that person didn’t kill Eddie, either.”

Venus was protecting someone with her measured words about her “friend”, but Phryne wasn’t going to push it right now. She would most certainly get the information eventually. 

“Miss Fisher,” Venus said. “The newspaper said Eddie Spencer died of an overdose. Henry Stokes doesn’t have anything to do with drugs. Sly grog, yes. Drugs, no. He doesn’t use them himself and he prohibits his employees from using them. I believe the police should be pursuing that angle, and looking at those who are involved with drugs, rather than Henry’s so-far empty threat.”

“Well, I certainly can’t tell the police what to do, but I will do my best to help you get the answers you’re looking for. Does Mr. Stokes know you were planning to hire me?”

“No, he does not, and I’d like to keep it that way,” Venus said. 

“Then he won’t hear it from me,” Phryne assured her. “I believe I have enough to get started, Madam DeRosier.”

“Thank you for agreeing to help,” Venus said. “Inspector Robinson had both of us quite concerned yesterday with his questions.”

“Both of you?”

“No one likes to be accused of a crime they didn’t commit, do they, Miss Fisher.” It wasn’t a question, and Venus' tone and narrowed eyes indicated she wasn’t going to reveal any more today. At least she wasn’t outright lying, and Phryne appreciated that.

“Quite right,” Phryne nodded.

“Do you need an advance on your fee?” Venus asked, opening a desk drawer and taking out a checkbook. 

“No, no advance,” Phryne said. “We can discuss payment when I bring you the answers you need.”

“Very well, then. I’ll walk you out.”

Phryne followed Madam DeRosier out of her office and to the front door. A prismic flash caught her eye as Venus’ turned the knob with her left hand. 

“That’s a lovely ring, Madam DeRosier,” she said. “May I have a closer look?”

A slight hesitation crossed Venus’ face before she smiled and held out her hand. “It’s my engagement ring. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Stunning,” Phryne said, turning the opal in the light, watching the colors dance. “When did you get engaged?” 

“Four weeks ago yesterday.” Venus’ soft smile spoke volumes about her feelings for Henry Stokes, and Phryne hoped the madam was right about the innocence of her fiance'.

“Congratulations. When’s the wedding?”

“We’re keeping it a secret for now,” Venus said. “Henry dislikes the press almost as much as he dislikes the police.”

“I understand,” Phryne nodded. “Thank you again for calling me, and I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Thank you, Miss Fisher. I look forward to your updates.”

+++

“Messages, Collins?” Jack asked as he strode into the police station. The long bench by the door was fully occupied by half a dozen people, and Jack glanced over them briefly as he walked by, then lifted a curious eyebrow toward Hugh. Hugh tilted his head toward Jack’s office and they went inside and shut the door.

“What are all these people doing here, Collins?”

“Apparently, the newspaper article about Eddie Spencer’s death has brought them here,” Hugh explained. “They all want to talk about him. Four pawn brokers and a former girlfriend and her solicitor.”

“Well, let’s not keep them waiting,” Jack said, hanging up his hat and coat. 

“One of the pawn brokers is already in the interview room with Detective Aarons, sir.”

“Good. I’ll let you and Aarons handle the pawn brokers. Go ahead and send in the former girlfriend.” He sifted through the files on his desk for the ones relating to Eddie Spencer, while Hugh escorted a pretty redhead and an older man into the office. 

“I’m Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,” he greeted the pair. “You’re here about James Edwin Spencer, Junior?”

“Yes, sir,” the girl said. “I’m Gemma Smith and this is my solicitor, Mr. Richard Augustine.”

“Please, have a seat,” Jack said, and they all sat down. “I must say, Miss Smith, you were one of the first people I wanted to interview about Mr. Spencer, so thank you for coming in on your own.”

“When I saw the story in the paper this morning, I knew it would be best for me to come to you.”

“And well-prepared with your solicitor, I see,” Jack said.

“Ex-girlfriends are often suspects, Inspector. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do.” He looked back and forth between them, rolling Jim Spencer’s words about Gemma Smith through his mind again. “Let’s get started then, shall we? I understand you’re an aspiring lawyer?”

“Yes. I've almost finished my clerkship with Mr. Prentiss and hope to pass the bar in a few months.”

“And you met Mr. Spencer in law school at University of Melbourne?” Jack checked off facts in his notes as she confirmed them.

“Yes, we met in year two, and were sweethearts through graduation, up to about four months ago.”

“What happened?”

“I broke it off. He’d started using drugs during our final year of school, and it had gotten out of hand. He quit for a little while last year, but then relapsed. I couldn’t concentrate on my own clerkship and try to help him through his at the same time.”

“Where were you on Saturday night?”

“At Henry Stokes’ casino in Richmond.”

Jack’s eyebrows lifted, but otherwise he kept his expression placid. “Until what time?”

“I left around midnight.”

“Can anyone confirm this?”

“Of course. Mr. Stokes, his doorman Snag, and his driver Frenchy who took me home.”

“That’s first class service, being chauffeured by one of Stokes’ men,” Jack commented. 

“Mr. duPont - Frenchy - and I have been seeing each other for about two months.” Miss Smith was not shy about her associations with Stokes and his men, so she obviously knew it wasn’t illegal to simply be in Stokes’ casino, or to date his driver. 

“What time did you return home?” Jack asked.

“I live in Abbotsford, so about twelve-thirty. Mrs. Van Horn, the matron of the building I live in, was still awake and greeted me on my way in.” She willingly gave Jack the address when he asked. 

“And you stayed there all night?”

“I did.”

“Miss Smith, do you know who Mr. Spencer was getting the drugs from?” 

“There used to be a medical student at university who would procure a bit of cocaine for students who needed to stay up late to study or finish papers, but after a while, that wasn’t enough for Eddie, so he started going to Little Lon. He wouldn’t say where, but he always came back smelling like beer and smoke, so I figured it was a sly grog house somewhere.”

“He never mentioned where he would go or any names?”

“No, although in the last few weeks before I broke up with him he would mumble what sounded like a name in his sleep. He often talked in his sleep when he was stressed or worried, usually legal phrases and terminology. But after he relapsed, he started saying what sounded like ‘Jhoey’ or ‘Sowee’ and ‘help me’. I wanted to wake him up from whatever bad dream he was having, but he would thrash around and I didnt want to get hurt.” Miss Smith stopped and caught her breath. She looked down in her lap where she was twisting her gloves in her fingers. “I feel so awful for breaking things off with him. He really did need help.”

Jack paused to allow her a moment to collect herself. When she looked back up at him again, he continued his questioning. “Do you know where he would get the money to buy the drugs?”

“He was in the Pugilist Club during law school. He was quite good, but it was only for fun. So he would fight in an underground club on the weekends to make extra money. He kept at it after graduation, but stopped after some huge bloke knocked out a couple of his teeth and almost broke his nose.”

“Where did he get the money from after that?”

“I’m not sure, but he always seemed to have enough to pay his rent and buy his drugs.”

“You said he talked in his sleep,” Jack said, broaching the subject carefully. “Did you live with him then?”

Mr. Augustine leaned toward Miss Smith and whispered in her ear, certainly advising her against answering such a personal question, but Miss Smith shook her head. 

“No, we never did, Inspector,” she replied. “Though he tried to talk me into it about a year ago. He used to doze off on my divan in college in the middle of a study session, so that’s how I learned he talked in his sleep. At least the things he was mumbling back then were topics we were studying.” 

“Why didn’t you move in with him?”

“I’m not innocent, Inspector, but I wasn’t interested in advertising it.”

“Inspector Spencer indicated that Eddie was going to propose to you soon. Were you aware of that?”

“Oh,” Miss Smith’s eyes went wide and her hand went to her mouth. She was silent for a moment, closing her eyes and swallowing hard, and when she looked up her expression was sad but calm. “No, I didn’t know that,” she said quietly. “He called me Saturday afternoon and asked me to go to dinner with him at his parents’ house. He said he was going to give up the drugs and he wanted to get back together. I had no idea he was thinking of proposing.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I already had plans for that night, that I had moved on and that he should, too. I wished him well, and we said goodbye. He didn’t seem very upset, which, looking back was unusual. He often got upset when he didn’t get what he wanted.” Gemma sighed, as if even Eddie’s bad moods were something to be missed. 

“I’m sorry to be asking you so many difficult questions, Miss Smith.”

“It’s quite alright, Inspector. I am sad he’s gone, but I wasn’t in love with him. I haven’t been for a very long time. And I would have turned down his proposal, if he’d had the chance to offer it.”

“Given what you’ve told me about Eddie’s volatility and addiction, would he have been the kind of person to intentionally overdose?”

“Commit suicide, you mean?”

Jack just nodded.

“I don’t think so. He was never the fatalistic type. Before the drugs took over, he was always optimistic, and he loved life. I can’t say for certain what he was like in the last few months since I’ve had so little contact with him, but in general, I’d say no, he was not the type of person to kill himself.”

“I just have one more question, Miss Smith,” Jack said. The girl nodded her assent. “How did you come in contact with Henry Stokes’ driver to the point that you would spend an evening with him at Stokes’ casino?”

Mr. Augustine piped up for the first time to object. “I don’t see how that is relevant, Inspector.”

“It’s all right, Richard,” Gemma said. “I have nothing to hide.” The solicitor made a face, sat back and crossed his arms, but she ignored him. 

“I met Frenchy through Mr. Stokes’ fiancee’, Madam Venus DeRosier. She owns Club Phoenix next door to Mr. Prentiss’ law office. We met when she started doing the renovations about two months ago and became friends. I met Frenchy about a month or so later when he happened to be making a delivery to the club. We’ve been seeing each other since then.”

Jack nodded, the Albert Street connection finally made. 

“Well, thank you, Miss Smith,” Jack said, standing up. “That will be all for now.”

“You’re welcome, Inspector,” she said, standing up as well. “I hope you find whoever killed Eddie. He lost his way, but he deserved better.”

“We’re doing all we can,” Jack assured her and walked her and Mr. Augustine out to the waiting area where they showed themselves to the door. Breezing past them through the entrance came his favorite charming freight train.

“Hallo, Jack!” Phryne announced, picnic basket over one arm and a mischievous smile on her face. Her entire demeanor broadcast ‘ulterior motives’ and he was helpless to resist. 

“Miss Fisher,” he smiled. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Just bringing you an early lunch.” Her tone was innocent but her pitch was an octave higher than normal, emphasizing her scheming. “Hugh, here’s yours,” she said, pulling a large paper bag out of the basket and handing it over the counter. “Dot said to tell you she swirled her finger in the pudding to make it sweeter,” Phryne winked and Hugh blushed redder than a ripe tomato. Jack could only imagine it was an indecent inside joke between the still-newlywed Collinses, and he had to turn back toward his office to hide his knowing laughter from Hugh. Phryne followed without formalities, as he expected.

“So what are you really up to?” Jack asked. Phryne had shut his office door and was digging delectably aromatic items out of the picnic basket. “Mmm, Mr. Butler’s gratin,” he inhaled as she waved it under his nose. “You must want something very important.” 

“You know, it was more fun when you used to pretend you didn’t know I was trying to butter you up,” she said with a faux pout, perching on the corner of his desk. 

“More fun for whom?” Jack bantered back, taking the dish of gratin and a fork and sitting back in his chair to enjoy. Her presence and cheek were a welcome respite amid the sad facts surrounding the death of Eddie Spencer. 

“It’s always more fun when I’m on the case, Jack,” she twinkled.

“‘On the case’ meaning what, exactly?”

“I’m here to look after the interests of my new client.” 

“And who might that be?” Jack feigned indifference, despite the sense of dread creeping up his spine. 

“Madam Venus DeRosier,” she said with a triumphant grin. “She’s asked me to prove that her fiance’, Henry Stokes, is innocent of the murder of Eddie Spencer.”

“Did you put her up to it so you could get in on this case?” Jack huffed. He was only mildly perturbed but he maintained his bluster as part of their game. “You can’t go around soliciting business from my witness list just to worm your way in, you know. We’ve had this conversation before.” 

“Of course not, Jack,” she lifted her chin in assured defiance. “She called me. Remember, I told you I met her in the nail salon a while back? She obviously kept my card. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask Mr. Butler who answered the phone this morning.”

“You know you’ll be working against me,” he cautioned. “Stokes is still at the top of my suspect list.”

“Won’t be the first time we’ll be investigating from different angles, Jack,” she replied. “But we both want the same thing: Justice for Eddie and his family.”

“So what would you like to do first,” Jack said around a mouthful of delicious, cheesy potatoes. “Head to the morgue, or look over the case files so far? I’d prefer the latter if you can stand it, at least until this gratin is gone.” There was no use denying her access now. The Chief Commissioner may have directed him to keep everything “in-house”, but his loophole was counting Phryne as a material witness due to her client’s connection to the case. 

“Very well,” she smiled and cut conspiring eyes at him. “I’ll take the coroner’s report then.” He handed it to her and she scrutinized it silently. 

“So how are you going to do it?” he asked, after a few moments.

“Do what?”

“Prove a negative.”

“What negative?”

“You said you were hired to prove Henry Stokes is innocent, that he didn’t do it. Hence, proving a negative.”

“I’m taking a two-pronged approach,” she said. “First, I’m going to do whatever I can to delay or even prevent you from filing any charges against Mr. Stokes, thereby eliminating the need for reasonable doubt. Second, I’m going to figure out who actually did it, thereby eliminating the need for you to charge him at all.”

“And you know you’ve just painted yourself into a circle with that reasoning.”

“You said yourself you didn’t think Stokes did it.”

“Mr. Stokes has a fat file of offenses and arrests, but he’s only received a fine or a slap on the wrist for most of them. Every cop in this city would love to put him away for a long time, and an accessory to murder charge would do just that. It would have the added benefit of discouraging others who are trying to follow in his footsteps.”

“You would break Madam DeRosier’s heart by locking up her fiance’ for ten to fifteen years?” she asked, faking a pout “Where’s your compassion, Jack?” 

“I’m not in the business of making the love lives of gangsters and madams easier, Miss Fisher.”

“But think how much less trouble they’ll be once they’re happily married,” she grinned. 

“Or how much more empowered they’d feel as a partnership,” he said. “Think of the mayhem they could cause as a team.”

“Stop playing the pessimist,” Phryne replied, rolling her eyes then turning back to the coroner’s report. “No bruises, nothing to indicate a recent fight, no head injuries,” she commented. “Plus the syringe mark on the ankle. Possible indication that the killer was a woman and was able to subdue him without physical force. And the fact that he was found in a laneway behind Little Lonsdale…. Have you considered one of Melbourne’s Ladies of the Evening?”

“Inspector Spencer said Eddie had recently been going out dancing with a young woman whose name starts with “Z” but he couldn’t remember it exactly, and no last name. He called her a flapper. Mm, hang on,” he put the empty dish down and picked up his notes from his most recent interview. “Former girlfriend, Miss Gemma Smith,” he began.

“Was she the redhead who was leaving when I came in?”

“Yes, with her solicitor.” He removed a warm crock from the basket that contained a three-berry cobbler and began to tuck into that before continuing. “She broke it off with Eddie a few months ago, but mentioned that Eddie used to talk in his sleep, and recently was saying a name that sounded like ‘Jhoey’ or ‘Sowee’.”

“Could be Zoe,” Phryne brightened. “Sounds like the kind of made-up name used by a woman in that profession.” 

“And unusual enough that it shouldn’t be too difficult to find her. I’ll have Hugh organize a group of constables to track her down.”

“You would send Hugh back to the brothels?” Phryne lifted a sly eyebrow at him. “He just about imploded during that case at the Imperial Club.”

“So did I,” Jack admitted without shame. “I just hide it better.” Phryne’s laughter rang like bells off the walls of his office. Making her laugh was one of the many joys he experienced as her lover. 

“So what other evidence do you have here?” she asked, rifling through the files and selecting the one labeled “Hardy Brothers Robbery”. “Why is this one in here?” she asked.

“Another connection to your man, Henry Stokes,” Jack remarked. 

“He’s not ‘my man’, Jack,” she rolled her eyes again. “But they haven’t solved this robbery yet, have they?”

“No, but half a dozen items taken in that robbery were found on Eddie Spencer, except,” Jack paused to open another file with the interview with the jeweler that Hugh had conducted yesterday. “The ring the boy found was not recognized by Gerald Harvey.” He handed Phryne the sheet with a description of each ring and the monetary value. “Neither did Mr. Harvey recognize Eddie Spencer as either of the robbers.”

“So how did Eddie Spencer come to have stolen jewelry on his person, weeks after the robbery? And why did his killer not take them with her?”

“Maybe she didn’t know he had them. Or maybe she wanted to get away from the scene quickly.”

“I wonder about this other ring that the boy found,” she mused. “If Gerald Harvey didn’t recognize it, then where did it come from? It might not even be connected to Eddie Spencer.”

“We’d take it around to the other jewelers, but that’s not a top priority right now,” Jack explained. “Hugh spent the morning interviewing pawn shop owners who queued up in my lobby to talk about Eddie Spencer selling expensive rings to them, based on the photo of him in the newspaper.”

“May I take the unidentified ring?” Phryne asked. “I can have Dot ask around to other jewelers about it.” Jack nodded, even though he could imagine Commissioner Rogers raging about releasing evidence to a civilian and disobeying an order to keep the investigation ‘in house’. But his recent promotion gave him enough clout to override some of those directives. 

“You ready for the morgue?” Jack asked, scraping the last bits of cobbler from the inside of the crock. 

“Actually, I think I’m going to pursue some other angles for now. Maybe later this afternoon?”

“I believe that’s the first time you’ve ever turned down an invitation to the morgue,” Jack said, surprised. 

“I didn’t turn it down completely. Does four o’clock work for you?”

“I’m meeting with Commissioner Rogers at four. How about five?”

“I’ll see you then.” She stood up to leave and he stood to walk her out. When he reached for his office door handle, she took his hand and stepped close, her intention clear. Jack had overcome most of his paranoia about kissing her at work - everyone knew they were a couple and no one seemed to be scandalized by it - so he didn’t hesitate to reach a hand to the small of her back and pull her in. 

“Mmmmm…” Phryne hummed when they broke apart. “That cobbler tastes even better on your tongue than it does by itself.”

“Hopefully there will be more for dessert tonight,” he replied with a wag of his eyebrows. 

“I’ll make sure of it,” she said. He walked her out to the front counter and instructed Hugh to bring that ring out of the evidence locker, then walked her out to her car. 

“By the way,” Jack said as he handed her into the Hispano. “Eddie’s ex-girlfriend, Gemma Smith, is friends with your client. She’s a law clerk with Mr. Prentiss, next door to Club Phoenix. Jim Spencer said Eddie was planning to propose to Gemma.”

“How interesting,” Phryne said. “Thank you.”

Jack nodded and stepped back so she could pull away. As much as he would love to be the one to put Henry Stokes in jail, he hoped, as always, that Phryne’s investigation would be a success.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clues, clues and more clues; Phryne has her first encounter with Henry Stokes; and the very last section is **RATED E**.  
> ++++

Jack had described to Phryne where Eddie Spencer was found before she left the station, and she stood now looking at the spot where his body had lain. It was an even drearier corner than was typical for the rabbit warren of laneways in this section of town, and she sighed at the undignified end for the beloved son of a police detective. 

She didn’t see anything of interest close to where the body had been, which told her the police had done a thorough job - within a ten-foot radius at least. So she began to walk slowly down the laneway, looking for any other clues she might find. Eddie didn’t magically appear in that doorway; he had to have come into the laneway from either the left or the right, and it’s possible he, or whomever he was with, dropped a vital clue. 

A gust of wind whooshed down the narrow space between the buildings and lifted her hat off her head. She chased after it, hoping it wouldn’t roll into a puddle and cursing herself for not grabbing a hatpin that morning. It came to rest next to a wooden crate where the last bit of breeze pushed aside an old piece of newspaper. She looked down where a red square caught her eye. 

Crouching carefully, she picked up the item: it was a ring box, with a scuffed and dented corner. The inside of the lid bore the name of Klepner’s Jewelers, but there was no ring. Phryne tucked the box in her pocket and looked around further, but there didn't seem to be anything else in that spot. 

She traced her steps back to where she'd left off when the wind took her hat. She'd been close to the wall of a building, and there were scuff marks in the paint that she hadn't noticed earlier. She took a closer look, examining the group of long, thin scratches about waist high, which reminded her of something, but she couldn't place it. She looked down, and in the crease between the building and the bricks of the laneway, something small and shiny winked up at her. She plucked at it with her tweezers, pulling out small beads with bits of lavender thread through the holes. They were not very dirty, indicating they hadn't been there long, and she dropped them into one of the small envelopes she'd taken to carrying for occasions like this. 

She extracted about a dozen breads, then spent another fifteen minutes scouring the area, but came up empty. The ring box presented another new angle, so she changed her plans again and drove to Klepner’s.

“How may I help you, Miss Fisher?” Claude Chevalier was always ready to assist her whenever she entered the esteemed jewelry store. 

“This ring box,” Phryne said, handing it to him and leaning on the counter. “Can you tell me anything about what might have been in it or who bought it?”

“Where did you find this?” Claude asked, examining the scuff mark with his loupe.

“I’m not at liberty to say just yet,” she hedged. “I’m working on a case and this is one of the clues.”

“Well, whoever sold it would have tucked a card under the padding, so let’s see what we find.” Claude plucked at a small ribbon tab near the hinge and pulled the padding out. Underneath was a small card, folded in half.

“Brilliant,” Phryne cooed. Written on the card were a few rows of numbers. 

“This first number is the item number for the ring,” Claude explained, pointing to each row in turn. “This is the customer number, which we use to keep our clients confidential, and this would be the date of purchase, looks like just a week ago.” He showed Phryne and she quickly memorized the date. “Let me look this up for you,” Claude said and went into a back office. 

Phryne walked around the shop while she waited, mentally selecting a few gift items for upcoming birthdays. She always tried to purchase something from a merchant who was helping her with a case. A rather nice silver-plated money clip caught her eye, and she decided it would be just the thing for Jack to commemorate his promotion. 

“Here we are, Miss Fisher,” Claude said, returning from the back of the store with a ledger. “It was a diamond engagement ring sold to an Edwin Spencer, Jr. one week ago today.” 

“Do you have a description of the ring?”

“Gold band with three diamonds and a little bit of filigree. Not very expensive, but pleasing to look at.”

Phryne took the police evidence envelope from her pocket and slid the ring out. “Would this have been it?”

“My goodness, yes,” Claude breathed, examining the ring with his loupe. “And there are scuff marks on the side here, too.” He handed Phryne the loupe and she peered at the marks Claude was showing her. 

“Do you think the scuff marks on the box have anything to do with the scuff marks on the ring?” she asked.

“The times I’ve seen this happen is when the ring and the box are thrown against a hard surface,” Claude sighed. “You’d be surprised how often it happens. We get one or two returns in here every month and have to buff out the scuffs in the rings in order to resell them.”

“Why would someone throw an engagement ring against a hard surface?” she mused.

“Sometimes the proposal is unwanted,” Claude explained. “Sometimes the woman changes her mind after the man proves to not be what he claimed. I’ve even heard that one woman found the ring in her man’s possession, but he told her it was for someone else. She got so mad she threw the box through a window pane and it sailed into a duck pond. The ring was lost and the box was a lost cause.”

“How interesting,” Phryne said. She tucked the ring into the slot in the padding, admiring the presentation of the modest piece. Pondering the fickle and complicated nature of the human mating dance would have to wait for later. 

“Claude, I’d like to purchase this money clip,” she said, walking over to the case. 

“Ah, yes, that is a nice one. A gift for your Inspector, perhaps?” Claude removed the clip from the case and handed it to Phryne for inspection.

“Exactly,” she said, turning the item over and liking it even more. “Can you engrave it with an R? A manly design, if you please.”

“Absolutely, Miss Fisher. When do you need it?”

“A week is fine, no rush. Just call me when it’s finished.”

“As you wish, Miss.” Phryne thanked him for his help with the ring and headed out to her next stop.

+++

“Madam DeRosier?” Venus looked up from her desk to see Lowanna standing at her parlor door.

“Come in, Lowanna,” she smiled. “How can I help you?”

“I don’t need anything, madame, but I found something.” The girl’s entire body radiated tension.

Venus lifted her eyebrows in curiosity. “Go on.”

“I was sweeping the hall and found these.” Lowanna opened her hand to show Venus a collection of very tiny beads on lavender thread. Venus held out her own hand and Lowanna dropped the beads into her palm, visibly relaxing as she did so. “I found a few near the back door, some in the hallway, and a few near the door to the dressing room.”

“Interesting,” Venus nodded. “Do you possibly recognize whose dress these beads may have come from?”

The tension returned to Lowanna’s features and she looked away. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” Venus said, coming out from behind her desk and putting a comforting hand on Lowanna’s shoulder. 

“I can’t tell you,” Lowanna looked up with fear in her eyes. “She’ll -” she began, then stopped and looked away again.

“Lowanna,” Venus soothed. “If you’re worried about your position here, don’t be. I am an excellent judge of character and have not seen any reason to suspect you of doing anything out of line. There are a few of my hostesses that I’m keeping a close eye on, so you probably won’t surprise me by telling me whose dress you think these came from.” 

Lowanna hesitated, then looked up and Venus nodded silently. “It was Miss Zoe, madame,” the girl finally said.

Venus schooled her features into placid indifference. “Very interesting,” she said. “Do you know how long they may have been there?”

“I swept the hall two days ago, so it would have been since then,” Lowanna said.

“And what makes you think these came from Zoe’s dress?”

“I remember seeing her in a purple dress on Saturday night, and the next morning she brought it to Mrs. Merkle to fix a small tear.”

“Why are you afraid of Zoe?”

“I saw her come in late that night,” Lowanna said, words pouring out of her now that she knew she was safe. “Her hair was a mess and her shoes were wet, and she told me not to tell you she was late.”

“I see,” Venus mused. “Well, I already knew she had been missing that night because there were members asking for her and no one could find her in the building. I’ve already discussed it with her, which is why she’s been helping in the kitchen. Speaking of which, she should be here now.”

“She hasn’t come in yet,” Lowanna said. “That’s why I came to talk to you. If Zoe knew I was talking to you, she said she’d get me sent back to Woorabinda.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Venus said firmly. “You’re staying right here with Mrs. Merkle and me. If Zoe says anything else to you, just ignore it. I’ll deal with her.”

“Thank you, madame,” Lowanna said, with a polite curtsey. “I need to go finish the dusting.”

“You’re excused. And thank you for coming to me.” Venus looked at the beads again and wondered how Zoe had torn her dress that night. Maybe she was moonlighting afterall, and the encounter had turned rough. She shook her head; she didn’t understand how the girls would risk their safety for a few extra pounds. She poured the beads into a small china ramekin that she’d had on her desk to set her ring in, but which she hadn’t used for that purpose in weeks. She would leave the beads there until she decided how to approach Zoe. 

++++

“Boss, did you see the paper this morning?” 

Henry held up a finger to indicate he needed a minute while he finished counting whiskey bottles in that day’s shipment. He’d been double-checking the shipments himself since they’d discovered his supplier’s treachery, and so far everything had been fine. But Henry didn’t get to where he was by trusting people. Once he was satisfied the delivery matched the order, he turned to Kozzy and Grint who were standing nearby, and Kozzy was holding a folded newspaper. 

“No, I haven’t had the chance. What’s going on?” He strode toward his office, his two hapless henchmen following at his heels. 

“The kid they found dead of an overdose? That detective’s son?” Kozzy was saying. “He’s the one who mugged us after the jewelry heist.”

“You’re sure?” Henry said, taking the proffered newspaper from Kozzy and studying the photo. 

“Yeah, we went back to the pawn shops and asked the owners if this was the kid that sold them the rings. And they said it was.”

Henry stroked his beard as he scanned the article, unsurprised that he and Venus had been right about Eddie. It was just a matter of time before the jacks connected Eddie to the pawn shops and the pawn shops to Kozzy and Grint, and they already knew Kozzy’s name. 

“Kozzy, are you ready to talk to the police this afternoon?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Kozzy nodded. “Cooper and I have our story straight. I was helping him set up the tables here at the casino that afternoon.”

“Grint?” Henry asked. “What about you?”

“I was in the kitchen with Chef John, peeling potatoes and washing dishes,” Grint said with confident ease. 

“Have either of you ever seen this man before?” Henry quizzed, holding up the newspaper.

“No, Boss, never,” they said in unison.

“Good,” Henry nodded. “None of the jewelry is anywhere on the property, it’s all been taken care of, so the only evidence they have is circumstantial.”

“You think they’ll drop it, Boss? If they can’t find anything?” Grint asked.

“I’m not sure. The jacks seem to think the heist is connected to Eddie Spencer. Did you impress upon the pawn brokers not to tell the police you were asking questions?”

“A couple of them said they went to the police station first thing in the morning when they saw the paper,” Kozzy said. “Even before we asked them not to.”

“Shit,” Henry spat.

“What were we supposed to say, Boss?” Grint asked. “We told them we were relatives trying to track down Grandma’s rings that our cousin Johnny stole and was hocking. We couldn’t tell them not to go to the police, or they’d think we were the bad guys.”

“You idiots!” Henry barked. “You used the name ‘Johnny’ and he’s clearly identified as ‘James Ediwn’, so now the pawn brokers know you lied! If they didn’t think you were the bad guys before today, they do now!”

“Sorry, Boss,” they both said. 

“I might put both of you on kitchen duty for a week just to keep you from making any more stupid mistakes!” Henry bellowed. “In fact, why don’t you both go to the kitchen right now and tell Chef John to put you to work. And when the jacks get here to question you, don’t fuck up!”

Kozzy and Grint hustled out of the office, and Henry sat heavily in his chair and rubbed his face. He’d fire those two if he didn’t think they’d go work for someone else and reveal all his secrets. Maybe it might not be a bad idea to let them go to jail for the jewelry heist, but they were stupid enough to let the jacks talk them into a deal where they implicated him, and that would be even worse. If that Spencer kid hadn’t mugged them, the heist would be long forgotten by now. 

He sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. It was still early in the afternoon; plenty of time for him to go home for a few hours, maybe even eat dinner there before the casino opened for the night. And if Venus was in the mood, he might even have an opportunity to release his frustrations. The thought made him smile and he went in search of Frenchy for a ride home. 

+++

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon, Miss Fisher.” Venus led her back to her office and offered her a seat across from her desk. 

“I’ve come across some evidence that I thought I should discuss with you,” Miss Fisher said as she settled into a chair. “Oh, what are these?” She pointed to the ramekin with the beads in it. 

“Beads off one of my girls’ dresses that were found during cleaning,” Venus said. A sense of dread started to creep up her spine but she kept her features composed. “I’m holding them for her until her dress can be repaired.”

“That’s interesting,” Miss Fisher said, reaching into her purse and taking out a small brown envelope. “Because I found these today near where Eddie Spencer died,” she continued as she poured a collection of similar beads into her palm and held them next to the beads on the desk. “They’re practically identical, wouldn’t you say?”

Venus’ stomach twisted and her heart pounded. “They certainly look that way,” she hedged. “There’s no way to know if they’re from the same dress.” 

“Madam DeRosier,” Miss Fisher began, giving her the same intense looks she had that morning. “I can’t help you if you aren’t truthful with me.”

The initial shock was wearing off and now anger and disappointment hissed in her veins. “These beads came off the dress of one of my girls named Zoe,” she stated. “She told me she’d received a call on Saturday night that her mother had taken a bad turn and she needed to go to her right away, during business hours.”

“What time was that?” 

“She was gone between eight-thirty and ten-thirty,” Venus recounted. “My doorman took the call, said it was her brother who phoned. Several of my girls and one of my housekeepers saw her return and they all mentioned her dress was torn, her hair was a mess, and her shoes were wet.”

“Doesn’t sound like a visit to mum’s, does it.”

“No. But I haven’t had a chance to discuss it with her. She was supposed to be here this afternoon, helping in the kitchen as punishment for disappearing during business hours, but she hasn’t turned up yet. I suspected she might be moonlighting, but the beads indicate it could be worse.”

“Do you have an address or number where I can contact her?”

“Miss Fisher, I’m not in the habit of giving out personal information about my employees.”

“I understand you must be torn between protecting Zoe and exonerating Mr. Stokes, but you know what’s at stake, so I don’t think the choice is that difficult.” 

The mention of Henry’s name caught Venus up short. Of course she would always choose Henry over any other option. “You’re right, Miss Fisher,” she nodded and went to her filing cabinet. “Here’s Zoe’s employment file. You might as well see it all. There may be other information there that will help you with the investigation.”

“Thank you.” Miss Fisher’s smile held no condescension, and she opened the folder and started to read, while jotting everything down in a small notebook. “Real name Emily Farnsworth, 24 Browning Street, Seddon, twenty-five years old, light brown hair, blue eyes, formerly employed at The Dark Rose, The Steamship Hotel, and most recently at Mrs. Holloway’s Happy Daze Club in Little Lonsdale.” 

“Mrs. Holloway gave her an excellent reference,” Venus commented, altho she wondered now if Mrs. Holloway even existed. Miss Fisher didn’t respond, but continued copying information. 

“Madam DeRosier, would you be amenable to having me interview your girls? There might be more going on than an assignation gone wrong.”

“I’m not sure, Miss Fisher,” Venus said. “I’d like to keep your investigation between the two of us. Hostesses are a gossipy lot.” The lady detective’s close connection to the police concerned her. She’d trusted a police officer once before and it hadn’t turned out so well. Even though the local constabulary were backing off the clubs and brothels lately, she didn’t want to be the madam that ruined it for everyone else, especially since she was new in town. 

“In that case, would you consider taking on a new hostess that the girls would be more comfortable talking to?”

“You mean, someone undercover?” Venus’ skin prickled at the suggestion. 

“Yes. I know someone who will fit the bill nicely, and even has experience as a former hostess herself.”

“I’ll want to interview her, just like I do all my girls,” Venus said. “Then I’ll decide.”

“Fair enough. I can have her over here later this afternoon,” Miss Fisher said and Venus nodded her consent. The idea of an undercover agent in her club made her nervous, but her desire to help Henry meant that she had to trust someone, and her instincts told her Miss Fisher wouldn’t let her down. 

“Well, I must be going,” Miss Fisher said. “Lots to sort out and more clues to investigate.”

“Thank you for coming,” Venus said and the women stood and shook hands. There was a brief, manly knock and the door swung open, and Venus’ shoulders relaxed as Henry strode in.

+++

“Who’s Hispano is that out front?” the man asked. Phryne turned at the sound of the gruff but somehow familiar voice and froze on her feet. Her hand that was resting lightly on the chair back now gripped the carved wood tightly, and her stomach flopped over. He looked at her, steely blue eyes taking her in with a hint of recognition, and the corner of his mouth ticked up slightly as if he knew exactly why she was struck dumb. 

“That would be mine,” she declared after a moment, forcing herself to recover from the shocking sight of Henry Stokes. “Miss Phryne Fisher,” she plastered on a smile and held out her hand. “Mr. Stokes, I presume?”

“Yes, good afternoon, Miss Fisher,” he said, stepping closer and shaking hands with her. His large, square hand felt as familiar as his face looked, and even his narrow beard and slicked back hair couldn’t disguise his resemblance to Jack Robinson. A photo in the newspaper, or a glance across a crowded theater lobby was surprising enough, but up close and personal it was startling, and the way her insides had twitched and her nerve endings buzzed was damn unnerving. Her body always responded with mischievous anticipation whenever Jack appeared, but this was NOT Jack Robinson. This was Melbourne’s Most Wanted, no matter how much her eyes deceived her body.

“Impressive vehicle,” Stokes was saying. “How’s she drive?”

“Fast, fearless, and smooth,” she heard herself saying, in a voice that was far more flirtatious than she ever would have chosen, and Stokes eyed her with amusement. Bloody hell, Phryne, she cursed her opportunistic libido. If she didn’t extract herself from Stokes’ presence right away, she would get herself in trouble, and possibly reveal her reason for meeting with Venus.

“Miss Fisher and I were discussing her charity work,” Venus interjected, with impeccable timing. She walked over to Henry and tucked her hand into his elbow.

“Charity work?” Henry looked at Venus with curiosity, but also the same softness and desire with which Jack looked at her, and Phryne was charmed. 

“You know I was unable to hire every woman I interviewed,” Venus continued. “Some of them needed serious help. Miss Fisher’s new charity, Every Australian Woman, aims to help downtrodden women get access to jobs, medical care, and safe housing. I’ve given her a few names to get started.”

Phryne was so impressed with Venus’ idea and quick thinking, she added her own take. “Yes, and we also advocate in the political arena as well, to make things easier for women overall. Attitudes change slowly, but we’re trying to speed things up.” 

“Indeed.” Stokes nodded with polite interest. 

“Let me walk you to the door, Miss Fisher,” Venus said, and Phryne agreed, understanding the Madam’s eagerness to keep Stokes from asking any further questions. 

“Thank you for coming, Miss Fisher,” Venus said when they reached the front door. “But now that Henry’s home, he won’t leave for his casino until after dinner. Can you send that candidate over about seven o’clock instead? With both of us being business owners, we don’t get as much time together as we’d like. I’m sure you understand.”

“Certainly,” Phryne smiled. “I wouldn’t want to impose. And if you’re interested, the first board of directors meeting of the newly-formed charity, Every Australian Woman, will be next month.” 

“I wouldn't miss it,” Venus smiled back. 

They said their goodbyes and Phryne sat in her car for a few moments, trying to reconcile her visceral reaction to Henry Stokes: It wasn’t just his face that had caused it. Like Jack, he was tall and well built, and carried himself with confidence. Unlike Jack, whose confidence emanated from moral authority and self-taught refinement, Henry Stokes’ confidence was borne of a lifetime of fighting his way to the top of the criminal heap, always aiming to get the better of his competitors, and infused with the cockiness of having avoided extended punishment at the hands of the judicial system. Having a rebellious heart herself, there was a definite appeal and even a certain charisma of a man like Henry Stokes. She realized that if it hadn’t been for Jack, or Stokes’ life of crime, that she could easily find herself in the arms of a man like that. 

She took a deep breath and shook herself all over. She would have to be much more careful around Henry Stokes in the future. She thought about Jack and all they’d been through together, and reminded herself that what they shared was so much more than physical, even while she anticipated his three-berry cobbler kisses after dinner. 

+++

“Home for a kip?” Venus asked Henry as she reentered her parlor and locked the door behind her.

“And maybe a little more,” he rumbled, curling her into his arms. His kiss was hot and insistent, and she welcomed his ardour and returned it in kind. After the way he and Miss Fisher had looked at each other, she was keen to remind him where his heart lay. 

“Let me slip into the bathroom quickly,” she said, panting, as his mouth devoured her neck. “I’ll meet you in bed in two minutes.”

“Hurry,” he said, palming her derriere with one hand and her breast with the other, then let her go reluctantly. She quickly undressed in the bathroom and inserted her device, then snuck up on Henry from behind. He was still wearing his drawers, and had just taken off his shirt and she reached around him and grabbed his cock, which stiffened and twitched in her hand. 

“Oi! You little minx,” he exclaimed, arching into her grip. 

“Mmm, mine, all mine,” she purred. She rubbed his cock firmly while her other hand pushed his undershirt up his back so she could press her breasts against his skin. He stood still while she massaged him, panting and gulping, and her nipples hardened against his back. 

“God, this is tortue, come here,” he growled. He stepped out of her grip and spun around, picking her up and carrying her to the bed. His undergarments were off in a flash and he descended on her with wild abandon. He held her wrists above her head with one hand and fondled her breasts with the other, sucking firmly on her nipples as she writhed beneath him. He positioned himself between her thighs and she wrapped her legs tightly around him as he drove into her. The width of his cock and the depth of his thrusts caused her to gasp with ecstasy. She sucked his tongue hard, needing the feel of him in her mouth, too, and he responded by plunging his tongue further. 

He pressed up on his hands for more leverage and she clawed her nails down his chest, not hard but just enough that he’d feel it later, then snaked her fingers between their bodies to touch herself. 

“Give it to me, c’mon,” he rasped. She allowed a sly growl and clawed his shoulder with her free hand, swirling her fingers over her clit faster and faster. “That’s it, tha-a-at’s it,” he encouraged when her eyes rolled back in her head and she slammed her hips against him. “God, yes,” he moaned as she came, thrusting into her orgasm and roaring into the pillow next to her head as he exploded inside her. 

Later, as they lay together in the cool cotton sheets, he stroked her arm and chuckled quietly.

“What?” she asked, leaning up on her elbow to look at him. 

“Of course I’m all yours,” he said, touching her cheek. “Miss Fisher was the one flirting with me, not the other way around.”

“Can’t say as I blame her,” Venus replied, swirling her fingers in his chest hair. “I was abandoned to your magnetic charms from the moment we met,” she cooed with an exaggerated sigh.

“Is that so,” he said, a trace of skepticism in his voice. 

“Quite shameful for a madam, I realize,” she continued. “But I can fully understand Miss Fisher’s response.”

“Don’t forget my resemblance to Inspector Robinson,” he added. “I’m sure that was a shock for her as well.”

“All the more reason to be clear about what’s mine,” she said.

“I didn’t know madams were the jealous type,” he teased.

“Just protecting my investment,” she said with a grin, and he laughed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's welcome back our girl Nell Williams, aka "Lola", who has found a new career where she can use her old skills.  
> Jack and Phryne banter mercilessly in the morgue.  
> And more "old friends" step in to help Phryne with some major clues.  
> ++++

“Constable Williams, thank you for coming,” Phryne welcomed the Victoria Police Force’s newest female recruit into her parlor. The young woman in uniform wore no makeup today, except for a small amount of mascara and a bit of pale pink lipstick, but her eyes were bright and her countenance eager. It was a noticeable improvement from when they’d first met.

“G’day, Miss Fisher,” she smiled. “Hello, Dot.”

“Nell, it’s good to see you.” The sisters hugged each other warmly.

“You, too, Dot. I should have called, but we’ve been so busy at work, and I’ve taken extra shifts.”

“It’s all right,” Dot smiled and rolled her eyes over Nell’s shoulder. Old habits die hard.

“Inspector Robinson said you needed me for an assignment?” Nell said, sitting next to Dot on the divan. 

“That’s right. How do you feel about playing hostess again? Undercover, of course.”

“Not at the Imperial Club, I hope,” Nell said.

“No, the new Club Phoenix on Albert Street.”

“I’ve worked hard to put that life behind me, Miss Fisher. When Maurie died, I realized I didn’t want any part of that anymore.”

“Is that a no?”

“No, what I mean to say is, if I can help other girls, then I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Excellent.” Phryne beamed. “I presume you’ve heard of the death of Eddie Spencer.”

“Detective Spencer’s son, yes. The Inspector briefed me before I came over.”

“One of the police’s chief suspects is the gangster, Henry Stokes. However, I’ve been hired by his fiancee’, Madam DeRosier, owner of Club Phoenix, to prove his innocence.”

“Where do I fit in?”

“It appears that one of Madam DeRosier’s hostesses, a girl named Zoe, was in the same laneway where Eddie was found,” Phryne explained. “Some beads from her dress were found there, and Madam DeRosier has stated that Zoe was missing from the club for about two hours that night. Detective Spencer said Eddie was seeing a girl named Zoe recently, but we’re not sure it’s the same girl. We’re fairly certain it was a woman who gave Eddie the fatal overdose, due to the fact that he wasn’t subdued by physical force, but we haven’t determined if that woman was Zoe. However, Since Mr. Spencer was a known drug addict, there might be something else going on with Zoe, and possibly others at the club.”

“And you need eyes and ears inside,” Nell confirmed. 

“Yes. We need to know if Zoe was with Eddie that night and why. And if she wasn’t, why was she in that same laneway, and does she know why Eddie was there. Is she moonlighting as a prostitute, or is she selling drugs on the side? Answers to any of these questions could lead us to whoever it was that gave Eddie the overdose, and lead the police away from Henry Stokes.”

“I’m sure I can get you some helpful information, Miss Fisher.”

“Can you meet Madam DeRosier at seven this evening for your first night on the job?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Do you need anything to get started? A new dress, fresh makeup?”

“Can you teach me to fan dance?” Nell said, with an impish lift of her eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll catch myself a handsome detective.”

There was a pause in the air as Dot gave Nell a scandalized look and Phryne eyed Nell over her whiskey glass. “Cheeky,” she grinned. 

+++

“Doctor McMillan’s report was very thorough, so I don’t know what you’re hoping to find,” Jack said as Phryne lifted the sheet here and there to scan over Eddie Spencer’s arms, legs and torso.

“You know me, Jack,” she replied. “I always find something.”

“I’m actually hoping you do, because we need more evidence. Right now we can only prove that Eddie and Zoe were in the laneway together, but we can’t prove she gave him the injection.”

“That may not be possible without the syringe or a signed confession,” she replied. 

“And there’s no telling where that syringe is now. It could be in the Yarra, or any trash bin in the city.”

“We’ll just have to find another clue then.” She turned toward the table that held Eddie’s clothes and belongings and started going through them carefully. 

“Huh, I don’t remember this being here yesterday,” Jack said, leaning over Eddie’s shoulder and squinting. A round, purple shadow seemed to have formed under the skin near Eddie’s shoulder, where his right arm met his body.

“What is it?” Phryne came over and peered at the spot with him. “Looks like a bruise of some sort. Is it in Mac’s report?”

Jack grabbed the clipboard off the table and started flipping pages. “No, nothing about a bruise in that location.”

“That’s doubly odd,” Phryne said. “First, because Mac doesn’t usually miss anything.”

“And second,” Jack added, “how does a bruise form so long after circulation has stopped?”

“I feel like Mac had explained that to me once before, but it was over drinks so I don’t trust myself to remember it exactly. Jack, what are you doing?”

Jack had put the clipboard down and was pulling back the sheet, leaving only Eddie’s dignity covered. It was something he rarely did himself but the first bruise sparked a fuzzy memory of his own. “Looking for more bruises like that one I just found.” He picked up a torch from the counter and started shining it over the body to make the discoloration stand out. “There.” He pointed to a spot on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. 

“That’s an unusual place for a bruise,” Phryne said.

“Femoral nerve,” Jack replied. “Controls movements of the knees and lower leg. Direct pressure or a striking blow can instantly weaken the person’s leg and cause their knee to buckle, making it easier to take them down.”

“That’s fascinating. How did you know that?”

“The Academy is training the new Constables on these pressure points to give them more ways to disable physically combative suspects without breaking as many bones. I think there were a few too many wrongful injury lawsuits against Russell Street last year. Anyway, the femoral nerve is one of the important ones for knocking an opponent off his feet. This one up here,” Jack pointed to the first bruise they found, “weakens the arm, but I can’t remember the name of it.”

“Brachial plexus,” Mac said, walking into the room while pulling on her white coat. “Very good, Inspector.” Phryne smirked at him for besting her and he lifted his chin in silent triumph. Point to Robinson.

“I heard you two were snooping around,” Mac continued, “so I thought I’d stop in to make sure you aren’t molesting poor Mr. Spencer.”

“I have never molested anyone, living or dead,” Phryne protested. “And neither has Jack. Well, except me, but that was all in good fun.”

Jack knew payback when he heard it. Point to Fisher. All he could do was sigh and shake his head.

“And yes, bruising can rise to the surface up to forty-eight hours after death so I’m not surprised I missed these small marks yesterday,” Mac continued, having learned long ago to ignore their banter. “Quite curious.” She examined the bruises closely, then added the information to the sheet on the clipboard.

“Would those two injuries be enough to completely immobilize a strong young man like Eddie?” Phryne asked. 

“No, they wouldn’t,” Mac said. “Would you two mind helping me roll Mr. Spencer on his side so I can examine his back?”

Jack and Phryne took spots on one side of the body and Jack caught the sly smirk Phryne shot him as they pulled poor Eddie up on his side. 

“This is like foreplay for you two, isn’t it.” Mac gave them a look. 

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Phryne replied, to which Mac rolled her eyes before getting on with the business of examining the victim’s lower back. 

“As expected,” Mac said, and Jack and Phryne leaned over the body to try and see what she’d found. “A slightly larger round bruise to the left kidney. Like the others, made with the pressure of the thumb or even a knuckle. That would certainly be uncomfortable.” She wrote more in the report and then let Jack and Phryne lower the body back to the table. 

“There’s one more place I want to look.” Mac moved to the top of the table and turned Eddie’s head to one side, then used the torch to illuminate the area behind his ear. “The mastoid process is an excellent pressure point for controlling someone with minimal physical force,” she explained as she examined one side of the head and then the other. “Ah, here.”

Jack bent over and looked at the bruise below Eddie’s ear and just behind his jawbone. He pressed on that spot on his own head and understood why it would have been an effective location. It was a moment before he realized that Phryne wasn’t as intrigued with this new bit of knowledge as he was, and he looked toward her. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised. When they’d rolled Eddie on his side, the sheet had fallen off completely and Phryne was now examining the victim’s genitals. She was using a pair of forceps and moving things side-to-side to get a better look. Jack’s own genitals twitched involuntarily at the sight.

“I think that counts as ‘molesting’, Miss Fisher.” Point to Robinson.

It was her turn to smirk at him before turning to the doctor. “Now, Mac,” Phryne began. “You’ve seen a lot of deceased male bodies, and I’ve seen a lot of living male bodies, but I wonder if this area here should be quite so purple.” She waved the forceps over the area in question.

Mac glanced at the area for a moment. “What do you think, Inspector?” She looked at him, playing the innocent. “You’re obviously far more familiar with this type of equipment than either of us.”

If he didn’t know Mac’s ornery streak, he would have sworn Phryne had put her up to it, but somehow, when the two of them were together, he always ended up the brunt of their jokes about men. And - point to Fisher - Phryne’s remark about male bodies touched a nerve he’d been trying to desensitize for a year. The sarcasm that followed simply couldn’t be helped. 

“Oh, I’m sure I’m no match for Miss Fisher’s expertise on the subject.” He leaned his hip against the table and crossed his arms, staring her down. She stared back at him; something unexpected - was it remorse? - flickered in her eyes and quickly disappeared, but she didn’t say anything. 

“The short answer is no, Miss Fisher,” he said finally, still holding her eyes. “It should never be that purple - living or dead.”

“Then it appears someone else was molesting Eddie Spencer before he died,” she concluded. “Jaw, arm, kidney, thigh, groin…,” she mused. “Quite an unusual combination.” From there she turned her attention back to Eddie’s personal effects and started going through everything.

“Applying pressure to any one of those areas would immobilize some of the victim’s movements,” Mac explained. “Applying pressure to all of them at the same time or in rapid succession, would at least bring a victim to his knees, or worse, depending on his tolerance for pain.”

“It’s very specific, though, isn’t it?” Phryne asked as she worked her way through Eddie's clothes. “Jack, where is the Police Academy getting their curriculum about pressure points?”

“Through a partnership with the Chinese Police, as part of several programs to reduce the drug trade. I’ll contact the instructor in the morning and have him look over the report.”

“What’s this?” she asked, holding up a button she’d plucked from a metal pan that held Eddie’s watch, keys and a few coins. It was square and covered in red silk, with a large cat embroidered in gold thread.

“It was found clutched in his hand,” Jack explained. “It didn’t come off his own clothing, so we didn’t know what to make of it.”

“Go ahead and call that instructor, Jack,” she said, popping the button into a small envelope. “But I bet you I’ll know all about this button and those pressure points before supper at seven. See you then,” she grinned and swirled out of the room.

“I doubt you’ll need to call that instructor,” Mac said after Phryne left. Jack just nodded. There was a reason why he had started using a pencil in his date book now instead of a fountain pen.

+++

“Miss Fisher!” Lin Chun greeted her with a smile and a proper bow, then shared continental cheek kisses with her. 

“Lin, so good to see you again. How’s married life?”

“Wonderful, thank you. And if the Argus is to be believed, it appears you’ve decided that Inspector Robinson is more than ‘just business’ now,” he said with a knowing look.

“Apparently leopards can change one or two spots,” she replied. “How is Camellia?”

“I am fine, Miss Fisher,” said an obviously pregnant Camellia from the drawing room door. “Welcome to our home.” Phryne went to her and they shared a hug.

“Thank you for being able to see me on such short notice,” Phryne said to them. “I promise not to take up more than a few minutes of your time.”

“You are welcome to stay for dinner,” Camellia said. “We have plenty.”

“Thank you but no. I already have plans.”

“Do you have time for a drink?” Lin asked. 

“I would never turn that down,” she said, and followed Lin into their drawing room, decorated in rich red and gold fabrics and black lacquered woods. 

“You are positively glowing, Camellia,” Phryne said, making conversation as Lin poured their drinks. 

“Thank you, Miss Fisher. Although I don’t know if I will make it through the last two months. This baby is very heavy.”

“I’m sure you’ll overcome it like everything else, with that fighting tiger spirit.” 

“And you’ll be glad to know,” Lin said, handing Phryne a drink and sitting next to Camellia. “Grandmother has changed her tune and is anxiously awaiting our new arrival. She’s even sewing again, making traditional Chinese baby clothes. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Will wonders never cease,” Phryne said, lifting her glass to Lin. 

“So how can we help you, Miss Fisher?”

“Inspector Robinson and I are working on a case that has Chinese connections and I’m hoping you can give me some insight.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Lin nodded.

“First,” she said, sliding a notebook and pencil out of her bag. “Do you know anything about using pressure points for fighting?” 

“There is a branch of martial arts that specializes in it, but it’s not very common. It’s more offensive than defensive, because you have to get close to your opponent, almost sneaking up on him, in order to access some of those points on the body.”

“We have a murder victim that’s showing bruises on five pressure point locations, and they seemed very deliberately chosen to me.”

“What points?”

Phryne pointed to the first four places on her own body as she listed them off. “Inside the thigh, here on the arm, back here on the jaw, the left kidney and the groin.”

“Star of the Rainbow Dragon,” Camellia said in a shocked and breathy voice. 

“Star of the Rainbow Dragon?” Phryne repeated.

“Yes, it is used to immobilize an opponent, but it requires two people. The Rainbow Dragon is two-headed.”

“Camellia has first-hand experience with this,” Lin added.

“My first husband’s brother was in a secret kungfu sect, called the Rainbow Circle, that practiced that technique. I’ve seen it done and it is very painful. First, they give you a blow to your kidney with a knuckle, like this,” she made a fist but stuck out the knuckle of her middle finger. “Then they use the pressure points to weaken you. It is for intimidation, not honest fighting.”

Phryne nodded, jotting down everything Camellia said. “Do you know anyone in Melbourne who would use that technique?”

Lin and Camellia looked at each other before Lin spoke. “I thought it was only a rumor but now I’m not so sure. Members of the Rainbow Circle supposedly moved here several months ago, and are working for a big cocaine dealer, but no one in the Chinese community will speak openly about it.”

“What is the name of this big cocaine dealer?”

“His name is Christopher Ling,” Lin said. “His father was descended from the House of Ling, a powerful political family in the last century until they were shamed and sent away following a coup attempt. His mother’s family immigrated here from England during the gold rush. If he is involved in your case you need to be extremely careful. He’s a very dangerous man, and possibly a member of the Rainbow Circle as well.”

“I haven’t heard the name before now, but I will be sure to pass on the warning,” she said. Lin looked at her like he didn’t believe her but she moved on to her next question. “The second thing I wanted to ask you about is this button,” she said, taking out the envelope and removing the button. She passed it first to Camellia, who took a close look at it then immediately placed it on the table, her face a mask of horror. 

“Christopher Ling,”she breathed, and her cheeks drained of color. She shared a look with Lin who picked up the button to examine it himself. 

“Christopher Ling’s family symbol is a rampant panther. This would have had to come off his clothes - a vest or suit jacket.” Lin handed the button back to Phryne. “If this was found at the crime scene, Mr. Ling was there.”

“It wasn’t just at the crime scene,” she said, looking at it again. “It was clutched in the victim’s hand.”

Camellia and Lin looked worriedly at her. “Please stay away from Christopher Ling and his men,” Lin warned, more sternly this time. “For your safety, Miss Fisher.”

“Is he really that bad?” she asked.

“The Rainbow Circle killed my first husband,” Camellia said. “They were working for the government against the Communist party. They are ruthless.”

Phryne didn’t say anything for a moment, pondering the weight of the conversation. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you both so much,” she said, standing to go. Lin and Camellia stood and walked her to the door.

“It’s not a problem, Miss Fisher,” Lin said. “If you and Inspector Robinson can take down Mr. Ling, you will have done a great service to the Chinese community in Melbourne.”

“Then I’ll consider it a challenge,” she said. “And I will be careful.” She hugged Camellia again and shared a warm handshake with Lin, then sped off for home. One more call to make, then she and Jack would have the evening all to themselves. 

+++

“I said, tell me what you know,” the man growled. 

Teddy “Talkie” Trabant was just trying to eat his container of dim sum in peace, huddled out of the wind in a remote corner of a laneway off Little Bourke Street in Chinatown. The next thing he knew, he was being yanked up and thrown against the brick wall and the barrel of a gun was shoved under his chin.

“Look, I told you, Boss, I don’t know where she is,” Teddy insisted. He wanted to be pissed off that his dim sum was now nothing more than garbage on the dirty pavement, but he knew better than to arouse further ire in the man with the gun. 

“Did you see her that night? Two nights ago?”

“No, I - wait, did you say two nights ago?”

“Yeah, dipshit. Saturday night.” 

“Yeah, I did see her that night. I was sleeping in a doorway, and she gave me some money and told me to find somewhere else to sleep.”

“Just money?”

“Yeah, what else would she give me?”

“I dunno, sex, drugs.”

“Sadly, no,” Teddy huffed, feeling shortchanged. “Not that night anyway.”

“Was she with anyone?”

“I dunno,” Teddy hedged.

“It’s a yes or no question.” The gun pressed harder into the soft skin under his jaw.

“Yes, she was. Some young guy with blonde hair and a red jacket.”

“Shit, I knew it!” The hand that was pressing Teddy against the bricks relaxed a little, but the gun never left his chin. “Was he all right?”

“As far as I could tell,” Teddy said. “When I got to the end of the laneway I looked back and he was kissing her up against the wall and she didn't seem to mind. I wasn’t gonna stick around and watch, that’s not my thing. I took the money she gave me and got a bed at the guest house above Tiny’s Tavern. Slept real good that night.”

“You know anyone else who saw either of them that night?”

“No, Boss. This is the first I heard anything about them since that night.”

“How do I find her?”

“She works for that new club on Albert Street. I can’t remember the name - it’s like a bird or something.”

“Club Phoenix?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” The gun dropped and Boss turned away and sighed.

“Why you wanna know about Zoe?” Teddy asked, stepping away from the wall and brushing off his coat.

“That’s not your concern.”

“Oh, well don’t hurt Zoe, alright? She’s always been nice to me.”

“Sure, of course,” Boss said absentmindedly. “Oh, and here,” he took a pound note out of his pocket. “Go get some more dim sum.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

“Now get out of here and forget we ever talked.”

“Like always, Boss.” Teddy tipped his hat and hustled down the lane away from Boss. He ended up three blocks over behind the new Regency Hotel with a hearty mincemeat pie in his hand. He settled down in a warm corner under a steam vent behind the hotel’s laundry room and hoped Zoe would be all right.  
+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: How many of you pressed on your mastoid process while reading the morgue scene? Yeah, I thought so!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lola" starts her undercover assignment at Club Phoenix, but so does someone else.  
> Zoe starts to realize she's in a tighter spot than she expected.  
> Oh, and can you believe we're 2/3 of the way through already?  
> +++++

“Well, Lola, you certainly look the part,” Venus said, eyeing her new “employee” up and down. 

“I spent two years at the Imperial Club, Madam Venus. I know what I’m doing.”

“Were you successful there?”

“I was in the top five in tips. A lot of men like blondes, as I’m sure you know.”

“I do. What made you want to be a police officer?”

“It was either that or be a maid, and I hate cleaning.”

“You’ll fit right in,” Venus remarked and rolled her eyes. “I can’t talk any of these girls into lifting a finger to help around here, even if I offer them a bonus. But, they do a wonderful job keeping our members and guests happy, so I won’t complain.”

“How many members do you have?”

“Fifty so far, but more join every week.”

“Are any of your girls from the Imperial Club?

“Just one, Lena. I asked her if she knew what you had been doing since you left that club and she said she hadn’t heard anything. 

“Good. And you’re concerned Zoe is moonlighting?”

“I’m not certain that’s what she’s doing, but I don’t think she visited her mother the other night.”

“I’ll do my best to find out everything,” Lola nodded.

“Good. There’s one more thing,” Venus said, picking up a slip of paper off her desk. “Miss Fisher wanted you to call her before you got started. You can use my phone; I’ll wait out in the hall.”

Lola came out into the hallway less than five minutes later. “Come with me and I’ll show you the dressing room and you can meet the girls,” Venus said to her. The dressing room buzzed with activity as the girls prepared for the evening ahead. Venus stood in the doorway and clapped loudly three times. 

“Ladies,” she announced when all eyes were on her. “I’d like to introduce you to our newest hostess, Lola.” 

“Hello,” Lola said with a small wave. The girls returned her greeting with varying amounts of enthusiasm. 

“She comes to us from the Mariner’s Club in Brisbane, but has also worked at the Imperial Club here in Melbourne in the past. Please make Lola feel welcome.”

One of the girls across the room announced there was an empty vanity next to her and Venus watched as Lola made her way there, being greeted and accepted by the other girls, and Venus was satisfied that Lola would fit in nicely. On her way back to her office to change for the evening, Two-Bit pulled her aside. 

“Madam Venus, there’s a cop here that wants to talk to you.”

“Where is he?”

“In the foyer.”

Venus walked toward the front door and was surprised to see who it was. “Inspector Flynn,” she held out her hand to greet him. “An unexpected pleasure.”

“Good evening, Madam DeRosier,” Flynn said, after a moment’s hesitation in which his mouth fell open at the sight of her. Venus smiled at the poor fellow. She was only wearing a simple navy frock, but she supposed it was a far cry from the coveralls he’d seen her in last time he’d dropped by. “I need to discuss a police matter and I wonder if there’s a place we can speak privately,” he explained. 

“Of course, we can use my office.” He followed her in but she didn’t shut the door, nor did she invite him to sit across from her desk or on her divan. Rather, she stood near the entrance, indicating this was as private as she would allow. “I hope there’s nothing wrong with any of my licences, Inspector.”

“No, nothing like that.” Flynn glanced toward the door and lowered his voice. “I wanted to obtain your permission to work undercover here for a few nights.”

“Is that so.” Venus realized this wasn’t the kind of conversation that should be eavesdropped on, and moved to shut her office door. 

“Yes, we’re trying to break up a drug distribution ring and one of the leaders is a member here. I’m just going to observe, and possibly strike up a casual conversation. I promise not to reveal my identity as a police officer while I’m here.”

“Who is this person?”

“Christopher Ling. Chinese-Australian.”

“Ah, I know who you’re talking about,” Venus stated. “I’m no fan of hard drugs, either, Inspector. If you can keep that element out of my club, I would be grateful.”

“As I told you before, just trying to make Melbourne less dangerous.”

“A man of his word, how unique,” she smiled knowingly at him. “Let me make you a membership card,” she said, going to her desk and taking out a blank card. “Will you be using your real name?”

“Ah, ye can use Michael Flaherty, lass,” Flynn said, with an Irish accent. “Importer of fine woolens and finer whiskey.”

Venus smiled as she filled out the card. “Here you go, Mr. Flaherty,” she said, walking back toward the door. “I hope you’ll enjoy yourself here at Club Phoenix.”

“I’m sure I will, Madame,” Flynn said, hesitated for a moment then spoke again. “Might we share a drink later? Get to know one another better?” His voice softened and his sincere green eyes focused on her own, his intentions unmistakable. 

“I’m flattered, Inspector Flynn,” she said gently, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “But I don’t get involved with club members, and especially not police officers. Plus, I’m also engaged to be married.”

“Well, then please excuse the imposition, madame,” Flynn gallantly bowed his head and stepped back. “And congratulations on your engagement. Your future husband is one lucky bloke.”

“Thank you, I think so, too,” she smiled. Flynn excused himself to head up to the bar and Venus shook her head as she went to change for the evening. Two undercover police officers in her club at the same time for different reasons and not knowing the other was there. It was going to be an interesting couple of nights. 

++++

Despite her new life and occupation, Nell was surprised by how effortlessly she slipped back into her persona as “Lola”. She chatted easily with the girl next to her, a stunning brunette with blue-purple eyes called Iris, and touched up her lipstick. The topics of conversation in the dressing room were no different than the Imperial Club - dress and shoe sales at their favorite stores, new makeup products, and warnings about which club members had bad breath and wimpy dicks but still expected their money’s worth. Nell was hoping she could avoid having to actually service any of the men, though she would do her best if necessary.

“Welcome back to Melbourne,” said Lena, sitting next to her when Iris left to go upstairs.

“Thank you, it’s good to be back,” Lola said, accepting Lena’s hug. Lena told her what was going on with some of the other girls they’d known from the Imperial Club, and filled her in on some of the high-tippers at Club Phoenix. 

“Speaking of high,” Lola whispered, leaning close to Lena, “Do you know where I could get a small dose? I picked up a bad habit in Brizzy, I’m afraid.”

“Madam DeRosier has a strict policy against that sort of thing,” Lena whispered back. 

“I know, I won’t do it here. I’ll wait until I get home.”

Lena looked around before leaning in closer. “I know one of the girls, Electra, uses it - I caught her in the bathroom one night. She said she got it from one of the other girls but didn’t say who. Then the next night I saw Zoe pass her a small envelope in exchange for some money.”

“So I should ask Zoe, then?” Lola asked and Lena nodded seriously and pointed out Zoe across the room before excusing herself to go upstairs. 

“That’s a pretty dress,” Lola said to Zoe a few minutes later when she caught Zoe checking her outfit in the full-length, three-paneled mirror. 

“Thank you,” Zoe smiled. “You’re the new girl, Lola?” 

“Yes.”

“I’m Zoe. I’d love to go to Brisbane,” she sighed. “I hear the weather is warm most of the year.”

“The temperatures are definitely higher there,” Lola nodded, then stepped closer to Zoe.

“Speaking of high,” she said quietly. “I picked up a bad habit in Brizzy and was wondering if you knew anyone who could help me get a dose or two.”

Zoe froze. “Why are you asking me?”

“I’m kind of asking everyone,” Lola said sheepishly. “My boyfriend died last year, which is why I left town, but the only thing that helped me get through was a small dose here and there. I haven’t been able to find a good source since I’ve been back.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Zoe said firmly. “But Madam Venus has a strict policy against drugs, and I don’t know anyone.” Zoe swished away in a rustle of beads and Lola sighed. The girl was going to be a tougher nut to crack than she thought.

She made her way upstairs and looked around the bar. The only man that caught her attention was a handsome bloke sitting at the bar alone nursing a drink and staring out across the room. She wanted to talk to him, but she was approached by an older businessman who showed her a wad of money and wagged his eyebrows. She talked him into having a drink first and would he please tell her all about his business, and hoped that he would drink and talk until he passed out or had to leave. 

She remembered what Iris had told her about ordering a “Lady Phoenix” from the bar, if she didn’t want any alcohol, and asking for a paper umbrella in her drink told the other girls they were welcome to cut in and take the gentleman off her hands. Iris said no one would blame her for allowing cut-ins on her first night. So she did that, and kept the umbrella in all of her non-alcoholic drinks all night. And while she listened to the businessman drone on, she kept one eye out for Electra and Zoe, and the other on the handsome bloke at the bar. If she had the chance to talk to him, she would definitely forego the umbrella.

+++

“You have had a busy day, haven’t you,” Jack remarked after Phryne had explained everything she’d uncovered since that morning. 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied. “I even met Henry Stokes on my second visit to Club Phoenix.” 

“And you waited until the end of your narrative to tell me? As an afterthought?”

“Of course I was going to tell you,” she said. “But I wanted to focus on the facts and evidence first.”

“Ah, saving the best for last then.” he teased, but she ignored it.

“As you may recall from your own visit with him, it was an unsettling experience. He’s quite a striking individual, you know.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at her. “You were attracted to him, weren’t you,” he stated, keeping up the teasing tone yet without a hint of jealousy. 

“Well, he does resemble the most attractive man I’ve ever met,” she explained. “On the outside. You can’t blame me for a momentary lapse.” Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head, but there was a smile on his lips. “But on the inside,” she continued, “he’s still a gangster and you know I would never knowingly involve myself with a criminal.”

“Key word, knowingly,” Jack said with a pointed look, but there was no condemnation in his remark. He knew he had her heart, and it would take far more than a passing meeting with Henry Stokes to change that, if it could even be changed at all, and Phryne wasn’t even going to speculate on that. 

Mr. Butler finally served their dessert, and she watched Jack’s mouth intently as he put away more of the three-berry cobbler, this time with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. The delicious anticipation caused a sizzle between her thighs. 

“How are the Spencers holding up?” she asked. If she didn’t distract herself with somber conversation, she’d have to take him right then on the dining room table, and the last time that happened it had turned out to be disastrous for several of her favorite pieces of china.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” Jack replied. “I tried calling Jim before I left the station, but Sarah said he’d gone out for a pint with a few friends. He’s taking it pretty hard, so she encouraged him to get out of the house for a while.”

“Drowning his sorrows?”

“Better than bottling them up,” Jack commented and there was no need to explain further. They’d had that conversation before. “When I went to talk to him this morning,” Jack continued. “He was in his backyard shooting bottles and cans with his service revolver.”

“Let’s hope he sticks to bottles and cans,” she said. 

“I’m sure he will,” Jack said with assurance. “Jim’s a tough cop, but he’s not one to go rogue.” He scraped up the last bits of cobbler off his dessert dish and licked the spoon with gusto.

“Speaking of rogue.” She was unable to wait any longer, so she stood and leaned close to him and he tipped his face up to her. “There’s a rogue bit of cobbler in the corner of your mouth, Inspector.” There wasn’t, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Is there?” He set his dish down and pushed back his chair, pulling her onto his lap.

“May I?” she asked.

“Please,” he replied, and his pale lashes fluttered closed as she leaned in. She touched her tongue to the edge of his mouth and a soft groan escaped his throat. 

“Mmm,” she hummed as she worked her tongue over the spot. “Quite a stubborn bit of fruit,” she murmured. 

“I think I might have some over here as well,” Jack said, pointing to the other corner of his mouth.

“Indeed you do,” she replied, turning her attention there. He slid his fingers under the hem of her dress, tracing the skin at the edge of her stocking, and the sizzle between her thighs roared back to life. She moved her lips squarely onto his, and the sweet flavor of berries and of “Jack” bloomed in her mouth. 

His hand slid higher up her leg, sweeping down between her parted thighs where her skin was hot and her desire throbbed. When the tips of his fingers brushed against her silk knickers, already damp with anticipation, her body convulsed as a shot of pleasure coursed through her. No one - NO ONE - affected her like Jack. 

“Unless you’re planning on breaking more china this evening, Miss Fisher,” Jack said between heavy breaths. “Maybe we should take this upstairs.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

+++

Mick was nursing his third finger of whiskey and cursing his luck. Not only had he been summarily dismissed by the gorgeous Madam DeRosier, he hadn’t seen his quarry in the two hours he’d been there. He watched the Madam as she made her rounds through the bar every thirty minutes or so, speaking to all the members briefly, but barely acknowledging him. She’d changed into a beautiful red beaded dress and set a diamond and ruby headband in her hair, and his heart had skipped a beat the first time she’d walked into the bar. He didn’t like to admit it, but she was far out of his league. 

“You look like you need a friend.” Mick turned toward the voice. One of the lovely hostesses had sat down next to him - another pretty blonde. 

“Would that be you, lass?” he said, remembering his cover. 

“Could be,” she smiled softly at him. “I’m Lola. What’s your name?”

“Michael Flaherty, lass. Importer of fine woolens and finer whiskey.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Flaherty.”

“Likewise, Miss.” He motioned for the bartender to bring her a drink.

“Have you had a hard day at work?” she asked.

“Aye, I was supposed to meet a client to do some business, but he never showed up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Why don’t you tell me about your favorite hobby, help take your mind off it.”

“Do you know anything about golf?”

“Not a lot, but I’m a good listener and a quick learner.” She smiled at him again and Mick relaxed. He set his mission on the back burner to focus on the lovely Lola, though he cursed his luck again at meeting another beautiful blonde on the wrong side of the law. 

+++

Zoe walked briskly toward the Parliament House tram stop two blocks away on Nicholson Street, wrapping her light coat tighter around her in the chill and damp, and hoping she wouldn’t miss the last tram at ten o’clock. Madam DeRosier let the girls go early on weeknights when the trams didn’t run as late, but she still had to hustle, and the quiet streets were spookier somehow. She wasn’t afraid, necessarily, but she wasn’t unprepared either. She patted her thigh where her dagger was tucked into her stocking top, and was reassured. 

“Let me give you a lift, Miss.” Zoe turned to see the dark red Rolls Royce of Christopher Ling pull up beside her, the rear window was down and his dangerous smile emanated from the dark interior. His offer wasn’t an option. 

Zoe hesitated, not wanting to deal with Mr. Ling tonight, but she knew she didn’t have a choice. She sighed and let the driver open the door for her. Inside, the car was warm and dry, for which she was thankful, but as the vehicle pulled away from the curb, she felt increasingly wary. 

“What happened to Mr. Spencer, Zoe?” Ling asked. 

“I heard he died of an overdose. It was in the paper this morning.” She tried to remain detached, hoping the darkness would hide most of her expressions. 

“Were you the last to see him?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “He was alive when I went back to the club.” Reading of Eddie’s death had shocked and scared her, and she’d grieved in private that morning. Her skin prickled under Mr. Ling’s piercing gaze, and she hoped her hunch was wrong. 

“It wasn’t reported in the papers,” he went on, “but my sources within the police department tell me they believe the overdose was administered by a syringe. An injection site was found near his ankle. A very womanly choice, wouldn’t you say?” 

“I’m certain I have no idea,” Zoe claimed, fighting the tremor in her voice. Was Ling implying that she could be convicted of Eddie’s murder? She wouldn’t doubt he’d use that type of manipulation, but she couldn’t let him see her fear. “I don’t take your drugs, Mr. Ling,” she continued with a bored tone. “I just sell them.”

“And that is the crux of the matter, is it not?” he concluded. “Mr. Spencer was a good client, and spent a lot of money on my drugs. Now that source has run dry. Every day without a Mr. Spencer on my client list is a day I’m losing money.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of potential customers out there to replace Eddie,” Zoe said, unsure what that had to do with her. 

“Correct,” Mr. Ling said. “And you will need to find his replacement by the end of the week, or you may meet the same fate.”

Zoe’s body froze but her gut lurched. She hated how Mr. Ling controlled her so easily and she wanted out of the drug business, badly. The problem was, she liked the money. 

“I understand completely, Mr. Ling,” she said stiffly. It would be a sleepless night trying to figure out how to extract herself from his clutches. 

“Good,” he flashed that awful, evil smile again as they pulled up in front of her flat. “Let me know of your success,” he added. “Find two new customers instead of just one, and there’ll be a bonus in it for you.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she got out, hating herself for it. He knew exactly how to push her buttons. There had to be a safer way to make this kind of money, and Zoe was determined to find it.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Hugh discuss the case, Constable Nell reports to Phryne, and Zoe seeks a surprising ally to extract herself from Mr. Ling's clutches.  
> (Sorry for the late post! It's been a long day!)  
> +++

“Not only did all of the pawn brokers recognize Eddie Spencer from the photograph in the paper, they all described Kozzy and Grint to a T,” Hugh said. “Well, at least what wasn’t covered by their masks.” He was sitting across from Jack’s desk, going over the interviews that had been conducted in the last two days, which had been a lot. 

“Do these blokes have real names? Police records?” Jack asked. 

“Yes, Kozzy is Emmett Cook, originally from the Mount Kosciusko region, hence, Kozzy. And Grint is Gus Trant, from Geelong. Both have records including petit theft, break and enter, and affray.” 

“Alright, go on.” 

“They would come into the pawn shops a day or two after Eddie, claiming to be cousins trying to keep Eddie from selling off their grandmother’s jewelry. But because they weren’t Eddie, the brokers weren’t going to just give them the rings, and they walked away each time.”

“And how do we know this Grint fellow is the other one?”

“When I went back to Mr. Stokes’ casino yesterday afternoon to interview Kozzy, I noticed that one of the other blokes there matched the description given by the pawn brokers, right down to the scar on his forehead. Turns out that was Grint, so I talked to him, too.”

“What a coincidence,” Jack remarked dryly. “I’m sure he and Kozzy both had alibis for the Hardy Brothers robbery, conveniently arranged by Henry Stokes.”

“Kozzy’s story is that he was helping Cooper, the casino manager, set up the tables for that night, and Grint was helping Chef John in the kitchen,” Hugh confirmed. “As for all their visits to the pawn shops, they claimed to be working for Mr. Stokes at various locations during all those times.”

“Of course,” Jack said. “Stokes was probably the one sending them around to the shops to find out where his stolen merchandise was going. But this still doesn’t answer how Eddie came into possession of the stolen jewelry.”

“What if Eddie robbed Kozzy and Grint after they had robbed the jewelry store,” Hugh mused. “And if he did rob them, did he know about the jewelry robbery ahead of time? Or did he just get lucky and happen upon Kozzy and Grint afterward? And if that’s the case, then how did he know they had just robbed a jewelry store?”

“Excellent questions, Collins.” Jack leaned back in his chair. “Stokes would certainly keep his robbery plans close to the vest, and only tell those who were directly involved.”

“I can’t see Eddie being involved with Stokes, even if he was desperate for drug money,” Hugh said. 

“And it seems unlikely he was just lucky to happen upon the robbers after the fact.” Jack rubbed his chin. “Unless,” he brightened sitting up and sifting through the files. “Where’s the file on the jewelry robbery?”

“Here, sir,” Hugh said, pulling it out from the stack nearest him and Jack furiously flipped pages.

“It’s a wonder those idiots at Central arrest anybody if they bungle all their investigations as badly as this one,” Jack sighed. “They didn’t ask the employees anything about any customers that came into the store prior to the robbers.”

“Sometimes those customers can be there to distract the employees while the robbers steal the jewelry.”

“Exactly.”

“But what does that have to do with Eddie Spencer, sir?”

“Eddie bought an engagement ring from Klepner’s jewelers a week before his death,” Jack said. “But what if he’d been innocently shopping at Hardy Brothers on the day of the robbery? He could have seen the robbery happen, then followed the robbers until he had an opportunity to steal from them.”

“But if he stole a bunch of rings from the Hardy Brothers robbery, why did he go out and buy one from Klepner’s? Why not just pick one of the stolen ones?”

“To cover his tracks. He knew he’d probably be recognized if he went back to Hardy Brothers, so he took his business elsewhere. And as addicted as he was to the drugs, he was still the son of a police officer; he wouldn’t have wanted to give Miss Smith a stolen ring.”

“That makes sense, in a sad and twisted kind of way,” Hugh remarked.

“Now we just have to prove it,” Jack said. “I want you to take that article with the photo of Eddie back over to Hardy Brothers and ask every employee if they remember him from the day of the robbery.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But before you do that, let’s go over those witness statements from Little Lon.”

“The only person who recognized Eddie was a bartender at a place called Tiny’s Tavern, about a block from where Eddie was found,” Hugh related, opening that folder next. “He said he saw Eddie come in about eight-thirty for a pint. About nine o’clock, a girl came in, talked to Eddie for a bit, and then they left together. General description of the girl matches the general description of Zoe you got from Miss Fisher.”

“So they meet up at the pub, leave together, travel a block down a dark laneway where the next morning we find Eddie dead against a doorway, a ring box and engagement ring in separate locations, and beads from her dress. What do you think happened, Collins? How do you think the beads came off her dress?”

“Uhm… maybe she tore it on something in the laneway? A crate maybe?”

“The beads were on the ground next to the wall. Be sure to consider her profession, Collins.”

“Ah,” Hugh’s cheeks turned pink but Jack gave him a bewildered look. After a year or marriage it shouldn’t still be this embarrassing for the younger man. 

“Hugh, you’re never going to get very far in the police force if you get tongue tied at the mere suggestion of intimacy.”

“Yes, sir,” Hugh replied reflexively, but said nothing more, leaving it to Jack to spell it out.

“So Eddie and Zoe were likely having relations against the wall, which would cause enough pressure and friction to damage her dress.”

“Would it, sir?” Hugh asked with equal amounts skepticism and curiosity.

“Yes, Collins, it would,” Jack said pointedly, unable to avoid memories of pressing Phryne against the nearest wall himself on occasion. He considered adding, “try it sometime,” but he didn’t want his constable to faint. 

“So,” Hugh cleared his throat and shifted in his seat before skipping ahead to the next question. “If what you say happened,” he cleared his throat again, looking down at the file to avoid Jack’s eyes, “how did the engagement ring and box end up in two separate places in the laneway, and why was Eddie given an overdose?”

“Detective Spencer said Eddie was going to propose to Miss Smith. Miss Fisher’s theory is that Zoe discovered the ring box in his pocket, got upset when she found out it wasn’t for her, and threw it across the laneway, separating the ring from the box. Then she overdosed Eddie in a jealous rage.”

“But if Zoe was still a - uh - hostess,” Hugh began, “would she even care if Eddie married someone else? I kind of got the feeling that those women don’t care if their customers are married or not.”

“Alright,” Jack sat back in his chair and considered Hugh’s line of thinking, impressed with his growing reasoning skills at least. “If she is the one who gave him the overdose, and she intended it to kill him, what would be another motive, other than thwarted love?” he asked.

“Well, Detective Spencer also said that Eddie wanted to quit the drugs,” Hugh said. “Maybe he’d been buying from Zoe but told her he didn’t want to anymore.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Maybe she offered him one last dose,” he mused. “Maybe it wasn’t intended to kill him, just keep him hooked.”

They were both quiet for a moment, pondering the gravity of that thought, then Hugh shook his head and sighed. “I’ll never understand why anyone would want to do drugs,” he said, thinking out loud. “I can’t imagine it being better than se- uh - being married.” He turned bright red, catching himself before saying what he was really thinking. 

“It’s not, Hugh,” Jack replied, remembering the natural high from the cobbler-fueled lovemaking with Phryne from the night before. “Nothing is better than being with the woman you love.”

+++

“So, ‘Lola’, tell all,” Phryne encouraged as she and Nell and Dot sat at the dining room table with tea and scones. 

“There was only one girl I knew from the Imperial Club, Lena, but I never told any of the girls what I did after I left Madam Lyon, and Madam DeRosier told everyone I’d just come back from Queensland, so I feel safe no one suspects otherwise.”

“Were you able to talk to Zoe?”

“Yes, for a short bit. I tried drawing her out by telling her I had to get away for awhile after my boyfriend was killed, and she was sympathetic, but didn’t give me any information about the drugs, and didn’t mention anything about Eddie Spencer. I think she was hiding something, though. I’ll try to find out more tonight.”

“Good, go on.”

“I also started discreetly asking around if any of the girls had access to drugs. I found out that Mr. Ling is a member, but he wasn’t there last night. Another girl mentioned Zoe as a source, but swore me to secrecy.”

“Then I’m glad I got the message to you beforehand. I do want you to find out about Mr. Ling, but I want you to be extremely careful. He is reportedly a very dangerous man.”

“I’ll be sure to keep all my wits about me,” Nell promised. 

“Did any of those girls mention Zoe having a connection to Mr. Ling?”

“No, but I wouldn’t doubt it. If Ling is her drug boss, he probably joined the club to keep an eye on her.”

“Excellent work, Nell. Anything else?”

“I spoke to one of the other members last night, an Irishman named Michael Flaherty. I was keeping my eye on Madam DeRosier, too, to get an idea of her style, and she spoke to every other member in the bar except Mr. Flaherty, and I thought that was unusual. He did look rather lonely, so I spent some time with him, listened to him talk about golf, then he left.”

“Why do you think Madam DeRosier avoided him?”

“I don’t know, unless she has some sort of beef with him, but then why not kick him out of the club? And he seemed like a really nice guy.”

“Or maybe he just wanted to be left alone,” Dot said.

“He’d been alone for over an hour when I talked to him,” Nell countered. “That was plenty of time to wallow in his drink.”

“Well, you’re doing a fantastic job, Nell, and I look forward to your update tomorrow,” Phryne said.

“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my shift,” Nell said. “It’s only standing a 4-hour watch at Parliament House, but I can’t be late.” 

They said their goodbyes, and when Nell was gone, Dot let out a heavy sigh. 

“What’s the matter, Dot?” Phryne asked. “You’re not still worried about Nell, are you?”

“No, not really worried,” Dot replied. “But it would be nice to spend time with her that didn’t involve a murder case.”

“Be thankful for what you have, and keep trying, Dot,” Phryne encouraged. “She’ll come around eventually.”

+++

“Please, Jack,” Detective Spencer said. “Give me something to do on the case. Anything. I’ve got informants out there in the streets and I can shake the trees if you’ll let me take a constable.”

“If you have any evidence or leads from your personal knowledge of Eddie, bring them in,” Jack said. “But I can’t send you out there. You know this isn’t my decision: Commissioner Rogers has stated he doesn’t want you working the case. You’re too emotionally invested.” 

“Well, of course I’m emotionally invested,” Jim’s voice rose with his frustration. “It’s my son!”

“Jim, please.” Jack spoke calmly. “I know you want to help, but you need to be with Sarah and helping her with the arrangements.”

“We can’t arrange anything until the coroner releases the body, Jack,” Jim shot back, then realized his unprofessional outburst. “Sorry.”

“Jim, I know how it feels when it’s someone close to you, but you need to go home, have a drink, get some sleep, try to be calm and be with your wife.”

“Ahh,” Jim huffed as he sat back heavily in the chair. “Her mother arrived this morning and somehow she blames ME for Eddie’s death,” Jim admitted. “I have to prove her wrong.”

“Let us work Eddie’s case, and you go home and build your case with your mother-in-law as a strong and comforting husband to her daughter.”

“You’re right,” Jim sighed. “Sarah needs me.”

“She does. Go home. We’ll call you when we have something concrete.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Jim said as Jack walked him to the door.

Jack nodded and they shook hands, but Jim quickly diverted his eyes before leaving the building.

Jack had originally wondered why the Commissioner was so adamant that Spencer not be part of the case, but he dutifully followed orders as compassionately as possible in speaking with Spencer. Now, as he watched Spencer leave, Jack was beginning to wonder if there was something the Commissioner knew that Jack didn’t - about Spencer and about the case in general. He’d been kept in the dark before by those above him and the outcome had been devastating, so he hated to have suspicions now. He liked and respected Rogers, and hoped his suspicions were unfounded. Nevertheless, it was time to start looking a little deeper. 

+++

“I told you, Boss, I don’t know anything,” Teddy said. He didn’t know how Boss found him every time, but it was getting annoying. Being a police informant wasn’t a bad gig, there was always a bit of coin in the offing, but that didn’t mean he had to make it easy. Being woken from his nap in his new favorite corner behind the Regency Hotel laundry room made him cranky enough to be less forthcoming than usual. 

“Look, I can’t just waltz into Club Phoenix and ask for her. I need to track her down elsewhere. Has she ever mentioned where she lives?”

“North Melbourne, maybe?” Teddy said. “I’ve heard her talk about making the ten o’clock tram at Parliament House, and that’s the one that goes through North Melbourne to Flemington.”

“That’s not good enough,” Boss said. “Have you ever seen her meet any other clients at regular times around here?”

“You know,” Teddy said, “I have seen her talking to someone in a red Rolls a couple times, in a laneway off Liverpool St.”

“A red Rolls? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, why?”

“That’s Christoper Ling, you idiot. One of the biggest drug lords in the city.”

Teddy shrugged. “Sorry, he’s not on my dance card.” Boss gave him a grumpy smirk and then started pacing the width of the narrow laneway. Teddy pulled an apple out of his swagbag and munched, waiting for Boss to finish pacing and mumbling.

“Parliament House?”

“Aye, ten pm,” Teddy rumbled around a sweet and crispy bite.

“Alright, thanks,” Boss said, handing Teddy another £1 note. Teddy tipped his cap and Boss hurried off. 

++++

“Zoe, isn’t it?” Henry said, giving her an impatient once-over as he leaned against his bar; he didn’t have time for unscheduled interruptions. Embarrassment flashed briefly in Zoe’s eyes at his nonchalant regard of her, but she squared her shoulders and forged ahead.

“Yes, Mr. Stokes. I’m here to offer you a business proposal.”

He pursed his lips together so he wouldn’t smirk. “You’re the fifth one this week,” he said. Go on.”

“I’m looking for a change in vocation,” she began.

“Not happy at Club Phoenix?”

“Oh, I am, it’s a wonderful place and Madam Venus is a great boss,” Zoe gushed, but Henry knew she was supposed to be helping Mrs. Merkle in the kitchen at Club Phoenix right that moment, so he didn’t quite believe her.

“But what,” he said.

“I’m interested in going into business on my own someday, but not with a gentlemen’s club. I see myself as having a shrewd head for more wide-ranging business interests, like you, so I was hoping you’d take me on and I could learn from you.”

Henry had a moment of deja’ vu as the first time he met Squizzy flashed before his eyes, right before the smarmy little shit had ingratiated himself into Henry’s business. He wasn’t going to let that happen again, but he was curious about what Zoe thought she could offer. 

“Business is a two-way street,” he explained, as he had done for Squizzy all those years ago. “I do something for you, you do something for me. So what are you offering.”

“Hire me on and I can waitress, tend bar, help in the kitchen, and even provide a little something extra behind closed doors for your best customers,” she said. “In exchange, you show me how to run a business.”

He turned to pick up the drink that Woody had just refilled for him, and caught his man rolling his eyes. Henry was inclined to agree. 

“What does Madam DeRosier have to say about losing you?”

“Well, I haven’t spoken to her yet. I didn’t want her to dismiss me before I had secured a new situation.”

“She ought to dismiss you anyway, considering you’re supposed to be over there right now, ‘helping in the kitchen’ to make up for disappearing on Saturday night.” Henry stared at her and sipped his drink. To her credit, Zoe didn’t wilt under his accusation or withering gaze, instead her resolve seemed to strengthen. 

“Is there a more private place we can talk, Mr. Stokes? Your office, maybe?” She stepped toward him, softened her tone and batted her eyelashes. If it hadn’t been so pitiful, he would have laughed; he didn’t have even the tiniest flicker of interest in her.

“No, this is it,” he said. “If you can’t say it out here in the bar, then you’d better leave.”

She exhaled a frustrated breath but stood her ground. “The fact is, I need your help, Mr. Stokes. My life may be in danger.”

“And you don’t think Madam DeRosier might want to know this?”

“It’s delicate,” she said. “As it involves one of her club members.”

“Go on,” he said, intrigued now that she was telling the truth. Maybe.

“I’ve been selling cocaine for Christopher Ling for three years,” she said. “And I want out.”

Henry knew about Ling and his ruthless ways, and had forbidden his men from getting anywhere near the drug lord. Becoming tangled up with someone like Ling could cause a world of problems for the solid operation he’s spent over two decades building. He also knew Venus had taken up a strong policy against drugs herself, and would no longer sell “special smokes” or “headache powders” in her club ever again. If Zoe was willing to admit to working for Ling, then Henry had to admit she was probably telling the truth. 

“So Madam DeRosier doesn’t know this about you?”

“No, and I know her policy about drugs, but I needed the steady work and I thought I could keep my work for Mr. Ling separate, but then he joined Club Phoenix and I’m afraid Madam Venus will find out.”

“You think if you come work for me he won’t find you here? I don’t have a membership policy like Madam DeRosier does; anyone can come in here and gamble.”

“I’ll change my name, dye my hair, move to this side of town, and I’ll do whatever kind of work you can give me, Mr. Stokes, if you’ll protect me from him. He doesn’t like to lose customers - or sales people,” she added quickly.

“Customers? There’s more to the story isn’t there,” he probed. She looked down and wrung her gloves nervously. “Tell me everything, Zoe, or I can’t help you.”

“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell Madam Venus?” Zoe asked, her eyes pleading.

“No, I won’t promise,” Henry asserted. “You’re her employee and I’m her fiance’, and you’re asking me to go behind her back to help you leave Club Phoenix. I won’t do that.” 

“Fine,” Zoe took another step closer and lowered her voice, desperation fueling her determination. “One of my customers died on Saturday night, from an overdose of Mr. Ling’s drugs. Mr. Ling is unhappy about losing the customer and said that I would meet the same fate if I don't find a replacement customer by the end of the week.” Her voice threatened to crack and there was fear in her eyes, and Henry had to admit she was in a tight spot. 

“I certainly don’t envy you,” he said, keeping up his arsehole facade, even though he was becoming increasingly concerned for Zoe. Now that she was standing right in front of him, he realized she was barely into her twenties - young enough to be his daughter. He certainly didn’t want to see her hurt. 

“The thing is, I could easily find several new customers at Club Phoenix, but I don’t want to break the rules or betray Madam Venus. Maybe one of your customers might be interested? I can come by here after Club Phoenix closes and talk to a few of them. I would never exchange product on the property, Mr. Stokes, I respect you too much for that. I just need to find a customer to replace Eddie and then maybe Mr. Ling will let me go without any trouble.”

“Did you say, Eddie?” Henry said with a start. Everything was beginning to make sense. 

“Did I?” Zoe hedged. “No, no, I said Freddie.”

“As in Eddie Spencer, Detective Spencer’s son?” Henry pressed, no longer leaning on the bar and looming over her slightly. 

Zoe looked down and sighed. “Yes, Eddie Spencer. He said his grandmother died and left him a bunch of jewelry so he was pawning it off bit-by-bit to pay for his drugs.”

Henry snorted a laugh through his nose at the absurdity of it all. Those were HIS jewels Eddie was pawning - stolen fair and square from Hardy Brothers like proper jewel thieves, not snatched in a laneway like a coward - being used to buy drugs from one of Venus’ employees. This was the confirmation of his connection to Eddie Spencer that the police were looking for, and he needed to distance himself from it if he was going to stay out of jail.

“So will you help me, Mr. Stokes?”

“You need to tell Madam DeRosier everything you’ve told me,” he said. “She can cut off anyone’s membership from the club for any reason, even Mr. Ling, and I know she puts her employees above her clients. Just tell her the truth. She has ways to protect you as well.”

“But you’ll come with me, back me up?”

Henry hesitated for a heartbeat or two. He hated being an arse toward a woman, but Zoe had already betrayed Venus’ trust and he was not going to compound that by taking Zoe’s side, no matter how concerned he was for her being caught up with Mr. Ling. This was between Zoe and Venus, and he wanted no part of it. “I can’t,” he lied, checking his pocket watch. “I have an appointment here with a supplier in fifteen minutes.” He called Frenchy and instructed him to take Zoe straight to Club Phoenix. When Zoe was gone, he called Venus to tell her everything.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne pokes the bear, Jack bears the brunt of Mick's frustration, Zoe's in hot water, Lola gets an invitation, and someone's luck just might be about to change.  
> +++

Phryne parked right in front of Stokes Enterprises. The spot had just been vacated by another car and she considered it a fortuitous start for her current objective: interviewing Henry Stokes about Eddie Spencer’s murder. She approached the doorman confidently and announced herself. 

“Phryne Fisher. I’m here to see Mr. Stokes.”

“Do ya have an appointment?” the burly man asked with more than a hint of boredom. 

“No, but he’ll want to see me. Is he busy?”

“I’ll have to ask him. What was your name again, Miss?” Phryne handed him one of her calling cards. “Wait here,” the doorman said. 

“Could I possibly wait inside?” she asked, looking around and pretending to be nervous. “This isn’t St. Kilda, you know.”

“Sure, Miss,” the doorman mumbled and let her in the door. “Stay here.” He pointed at the floor right inside the vestibule, but as soon as he turned his back Phryne tiptoed after him a few paces until she was standing in the doorway of the casino proper.

The smell of stale beer and even staler smoke accosted her nose as she crept further into the large room. The lighting was dim and it was very quiet, and all the tables were covered with heavy fabric. The place looked deserted, but she knew Stokes and his men were in there somewhere. She stayed on her toes as she moved even further into the room, straining to hear any sounds or voices. 

Finally, a curtain in the back was pushed aside and she stood straight as the doorman appeared, beckoning her over. She thanked him as she passed him, and as soon as she’d stepped beyond the curtain, it swished closed behind her. 

She was standing in a plush, expensively decorated office, and the man himself, Henry Stokes, was leaning against the front of his desk, arms crossed and head tilted in curiosity. Phryne had seen Jack strike that same pose in his own office many times before, so it didn’t intimidate her, but for the second time in as many days the sight of Henry Stokes sent a splash of adrenaline through her system. Her libido was again fooled by her eyes. She cleared her head by focusing on her reason for this visit: Henry’s possible connection to Eddie Spencer through the drug trade or Christopher Ling. 

“Miss Fisher,” Henry greeted her like the spider welcoming the fly into its web, and any heat that may have been rising in her loins cooled quickly. “I should have known it would only be a matter of time before you graced us with your presence.”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Mr. Stokes,” she replied, removing her right glove and offering her hand. He obliged by only unfolding his right arm to reach out to shake, his left arm remained firmly in place across his middle - he certainly had no desire to open up to her. She didn’t expect him to, and she was prepared. 

“What can I do for you, Miss Fisher?” His tone was impatient, but until he specifically stated he needed to be elsewhere, she was going to act like he didn’t. 

“I only need a moment, Mr. Stokes. I have a few questions about the murder of Eddie Spencer.” That got his attention, but it was only expressed in the flare of his nostrils and the pursing of his lips. 

“I’m sure I’ve told your Inspector everything I can,” Stokes asserted dismissively. “Why would I tell you anything further? You’ll just run back and tell him.” The accusation wasn’t inaccurate, but it stung all the same. 

“Inspector Robinson is not my client,” she said with a defiant lift of her chin. “And I’m under no obligation to tell him anything.” 

“Then who is your client?

“I’m not at liberty to say.” The staring contest that ensued, on top of their dueling banter, relit the spark in Phryne’s midsection. She rarely questioned her own motives, but now she had to ask herself why she’d actually come here. Was it really to gather evidence? Or was it to test her constitutional fortitude in the presence of Jack’s virtual double? Or was it more disturbing than that? Did she like how Henry Stokes made her feel? Was Stokes the kind of dangerous flame that always drew her like the proverbial moth? 

The thought reminded her of an old rebuke from Jack, refocusing her thoughts as well as the conversation. “Besides,” she continued. “I have a couple different angles to pursue that the police are not interested in.”

“Such as?”

“Well, it’s no secret you sell a lot of sly grog,” she began. 

“That’s true,” he nodded. “And forgive my manners, Miss Fisher, but would you like a drink?” He waved at his bar cart.

“Yes, please,” she agreed readily, hoping the alcohol would dull the tingling of her nerve endings. Watching him move as he poured, however, his muscles flexing under his well-tailored suit, might even be a challenge for distilled spirits. “But what about anything harder than grog?” she continued her thought, fighting back the grin from her own unintended innuendo. “Illegal drugs, perhaps?”

“I have a strict policy against drugs,” he stated, handing her a glass of whiskey. “I don’t use them, I don’t sell them, and I don’t let my men use them either.” He took a sip of his drink. “Far too much trouble, and far too much risk of going to jail. It’s much easier to run my business from this side of the iron bars.”

“What about local drug lords? Surely a man in your position has contact with some of them.” She sat in one of the visitor chairs and crossed her legs, making a show of being relaxed and self-confident.

“Like who?” Henry asked, tilting his head and allowing his eyes to linger on her knees. She sipped her drink to hide the buzz that raced along her nervous system as he did so, and willed herself to be cool.

“Like, oh, Christopher Ling, for example.” 

Henry’s eyes flashed back up to hers, shot wide with surprise. He took a larger sip of his drink before speaking. “You think Ling had something to do with the Spencer kid’s death?” 

“Not sure,” Phryne mused, curious as to why Ling’s name had caught Henry off guard. “Do you know him?”

He glared at her for a moment, then leaned back against his desk again with a shrug. “I know OF him, but we’ve never met. I hope it stays that way.”

“Why?” Phryne asked. Henry looked away but something like worry passed in his eyes as he did.

He turned back to her with a dismissive shrug, the fleeting expression gone. “I’ve heard he’s ruthless.”

“Some would say you’re ruthless, Mr. Stokes,” Phryne countered. 

“But I don’t kill people,” he said clearly and with a hard stare. “I prefer to outsmart them. It’s much more satisfying.”

“I would have to agree with that,” Phryne allowed. 

“So if you think Ling killed Eddie Spencer, why are you here talking to me?”

“Eddie Spencer abused drugs, and if he was also selling for one of the drug lords, then he may have been looking for opportunities to expand.” Phryne spun her tenuous theory as if it was as solid as anchor chain. “Opportunities like your casino, or…” she paused for effect. “...the newly opened Club Phoenix, right next door to where his ex-girlfriend works, would have been a prime location for a drug dealer.” The muscles in Henry’s jaw started to clench and his eyes darkened. “If the deal wasn’t going well with the proprietor of the Club -”

“No,” Henry growled, interrupting her, his nostrils flaring again. “She didn’t have anything to do with it. Leave her alone.”

“Can you know that for sure?” she prodded, using the same tactic on him that she’d used on Venus. It was only fair.

“Look, Miss Fisher,” Henry said, forcing himself to be calm, though his voice was rough around the edges and his tone decidedly unfriendly. “I have a solid alibi, Venus DeRosier has a solid alibi, and everyone who works with and for us has solid alibis for the night Eddie Spencer died. We were all working, with various members of the public seeing us working at that time. Neither of us had anything to do with Eddie Spencer’s death.”

“What about her former contacts in Sydney? Have any of them moved here with her? Would she tell you if they did? Would any of them be into drugs or know Christopher Ling?”

“NO!” Henry bellowed, crossing to her chair with one stride, placing his hands on the wooden arms, blocking her in. His breath was hot in the space between them as he loomed over her and his eyes flashed with outrage. Phryne shivered as the urgency for fight or flight kicked in. Maybe she had come here for the dangerous thrill of a close encounter with Henry Stokes after all. 

“Your questions are preposterous,” Henry said with authority and finality in his voice. “And I’m under no obligation to answer them. You’ve taken up far too much of my time this afternoon, Miss Fisher. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

She glared at him, anger rising because of the way he was accosting her, and also because of how it excited her and how her body sizzled with anticipation. It was no longer about his resemblance to Jack; it was about her own irrational taste for danger, and her proclivity to take risks. She’d never thought of it as a bad thing until this moment, face to face with Henry Stokes, tension sparking in the sultry air between them. It was not the tension of physical desire emanating from him, however, but the incensed ire of a lion defending his territory. She needed to extricate herself quickly from the lion’s den.

“Pardon me, Mr. Stokes,” she said coolly. “But I believe you’re standing on my wrap.” He glanced down and quickly backed away. When he looked back up at her his face changed and the spell was broken. Whatever heat was left in her body turned to frustration, mostly with herself, along with an unwelcome twinge of embarrassment. 

“Forgive me, Miss Fisher,” he rumbled, collecting his wits, his contrite tone laced with sarcasm. “I would hate to damage such a fine garment.” 

“No harm done,” she exhaled, giving the edge of her wrap a cursory glance. Then she stood and moved to put the chair between them. “And yes, I will gladly take my leave.”

“Before you go,” Henry began, and she crossed her arms and waited. “I’m sure you know that Venus DeRosier and I are engaged,” he said. “That’s why I got so upset.”

“I understand, Mr. Stokes,” she said, her tone more tolerant than sincere. “That’s very reasonable.”

“And no, I don’t know if any of her associates from Sydney have come here, but I do believe she’d tell me if they had. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“That’s an excellent policy.”

“And you can tell your client, or Inspector Robinson, or anyone, that neither of us has anything to do with Christopher Ling, hard drugs, or Eddie Spencer’s death.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, collecting her hat and purse. “I’ll see myself out.”

Leaving Henry Stokes flat-footed and on the defensive was one way to outsmart the gangster, but she doubted he’d realize how she’d turned the tables on him. It had been a risky move - to implicate her own client to said client’s fiance’ - not only did it unsettle Stokes enough to show some honesty, it also hid the fact that Venus was her client. Henry’s strong defense of Venus mirrored Venus’ defense of Henry, focusing Phryne’s attention away from them and directly on Ling and any other suspects that came up. 

As she put miles and neighborhoods between Henry’s casino and her own home, she physically shook herself to release the tension of the encounter, and of the seductive pull of a hot-under-the-collar Henry Stokes. But Stokes had not been acting in the heat of passion. He had been angry and offended, and rightly so, but he hadn’t shown even the slightest hint of desire toward her when they were close enough to kiss. 

No, his first instinct was to defend Venus, and his first words of apology centered around his engagement to her. Henry Stokes was only interested in Venus DeRosier - he was a one-woman man. And while the realization bruised her ego, she was thankful for it - the last thing she would have wanted was to damage two relationships, as well as the case. She’d learned all she could from Henry Stokes and deliberately put him out of her mind. Instead she pressed the gas pedal harder and filled her thoughts with her own one-woman man: Jack Robinson.

+++

“You gotta help me, Jacko.” It was barely five-thirty and Mick was drowning his sorrows with a second pint, bemoaning his continued bad luck with blondes. Their conversation always came back to this topic, but Jack put up with it for the sake of their friendship. 

“What do you want me to do, Mick? Take out an ad in the Argus for you? ‘Lonely police officer with wandering eye seeks blondes without criminal records’. That’ll have them queueing up around the block.” 

“Oh, sod off,” Mick fussed and Jack laughed. 

“So who is it this time?” Jack asked, knowing there had to be a story behind Mick’s latest blue mood. He couldn’t even chase Mick’s tales of woe with a strong ale because he had to return to the station for a few more hours; so he sipped his shandy while his friend talked. 

“Well, don’t know if I told you, but two weeks ago I was assigned to that city-wide task force that’s trying to take down some of the drug lords. They needed to fill a vacancy and decided I was the next sap in line.”

“You’re certainly qualified for it.”

“If it doesn’t break my heart in the process,” Mick sighed. “We got a tip at Central that Christopher Ling was a member at Club Phoenix, and the Deputy Commissioner assigned me to go undercover there.”

“Oh, no,” Jack said, immediately seeing where this was going.

“Oh, no is right. So I did what we’re supposed to do, and went to Madam DeRosier to request permission to be undercover in her club. She was actually quite happy about it, said she wanted to keep the drugs out, too. But before I went up to the bar, I asked her if we could have a drink together sometime, get to know each other. I couldn’t help it.” Mick sighed again and shook his head.

“She turned you down, didn’t she.”

“Like rotten fish.”

“I told you not to fall for a Madam,” Jack said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“And not only did she turn me down, she told me she’s engaged!” Mick declared, the other shoe dropping right on cue. “Since when do madams get married?”

“Haven’t you been reading the papers?” Jack asked. “It’s been the talk of the town.”

“I’ve been a little busy trying to catch drug dealers, Jacko.”

“The Marrying Madam and the Gambling Groom,” Jack repeated the popular nicknames.

“Gambling Groom?” Mick asked.

“It’s Henry Stokes,” Jack said. 

Mick spit his drink across the bar in shock. “Bloody hell. Really?”

“Really.” Jack proceeded to give Mick the nutshell version of how he had learned the information via his interview with Stokes.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Stokes is one lucky bastard.” Mick shook his head and swigged down the last of his beer. “She was wearing this red beaded dress and she was all dolled up like an absolute angel,” Mick stared into space then shook his head sadly. “And as if my luck wasn’t bad enough,” he continued. “I was sitting in the bar waiting for Ling to show up - which he didn’t - and one of the pretty blonde hostesses came up and talked to me for a little while, tried to cheer me up. Sweet girl. Name’s Lola,” he sighed and a dreamy look spread across his face. 

It was Jack’s turn to almost choke on his drink. “All I can say, Mick, is to have faith,” he said, not breaking Lola’s cover. “You never know when the right girl will reveal herself.”

+++

“I should fire you on the spot.” Venus was certainly angry with Zoe, but she was also annoyed with herself for missing the signs. She’d seen Zoe’s interactions with Mr. Ling - polite but not congenial, usually ending in Zoe walking away with a nervous look on her face. There was always another girl to take her place and please Mr. Ling, so Venus hadn’t thought anything of it; not every club member meshed with every hostess. 

Now that she knew Zoe was one of Mr. Ling’s dealers, Venus understood the girls’ erratic behavior, even if she wasn’t yet willing to forgive it. Zoe had not mentioned her visit to Henry’s casino that afternoon - an act of betrayal that cut Venus to the quick. Henry calling to tell her about it, however, had tightened the bond between her and Henry in a way that Venus couldn’t even put into words yet. And now this poor girl was standing in front of her, admitting her mistakes and asking for help. 

“I’d understand if you did, Madam Venus,” Zoe said, head down, clearly feeling the weight of her world crashing in. 

“But I’ve been where you are, and I know what you need,” Venus continued. Zoe looked up at her, a glint of hope in her eyes. “My obligation to my hostesses is to protect all of you, and I would rather you be working under my roof than out there roaming the streets where you might be hurt or worse. So I’m willing to offer you a deal.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Typically I would suspend you at half pay for two weeks, but I want you where I can keep an eye on you. I’m going to have you bunk here, with Athena, for two weeks instead. She has the largest of the rooms on the third floor and there’s an extra bed in the basement. We’ll get that ready for you starting tomorrow night, which will give you time to collect your things from home. To cover the cost of your boarding, I’ll expect you to work in the kitchen with Mrs. Merkle during the day - as you were supposed to be for the last two days - and in the lounge at night. Hopefully, in two weeks we can have this whole business with Mr. Ling sorted.”

“Will you be cancelling his membership?” Zoe asked.

“Nothing is off the table at this point,” Venus said. “But Mr. Ling is very influential, and I don’t want him to take half of the membership with him if he leaves. Feel free to spend your time with any other members you choose,” Venus added. “I still expect your best work as a hostess.”

“Thank you, Madam Venus. I will take that deal.”

“Good. Do you need to go home and change for tonight?”

“No, I have a couple dresses here,” Zoe said.

“Excellent, then you can go help Mrs. Merkle until it’s time to get ready for tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Zoe nodded her head and turned to go. 

“Oh, and Zoe,” Venus said, causing the girl to turn back around. “If you, or any of the girls, ever goes behind my back again with Henry Stokes, in any way, you’ll wish you’d never met me.” Venus allowed her lips to curl in a cunning smile and Zoe gulped. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Zoe squeaked. “Thank you, ma’am.” The girl hustled out, and Venus leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. It was only a warning, but it had the intended effect, and it would spread through her employees like wildfire. The rumors about Sydney were already floating in the dressing room and around town, and it didn't hurt to add a little extra kindling to her already incendiary reputation. Not to mention, keeping the girls away from Henry. She cared about each of her girls, but she cared about Henry much, much more. 

+++

“You’re here early.” Lola looked up to see Zoe sitting down in front of her vanity a few spaces away and giving her a questioning eye. 

“I had to complete some employment paperwork with Madam Venus,” Lola said, as if it were no big deal, and Zoe seemed to believe her. The fact was that Madam Venus’ had requested Lola come in early in order to have an opportunity to catch Zoe alone. “She seems like a good boss so far,” Lola commented, hoping to glean more insight.

“She is, but don’t get on her bad side.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before she came here from Sydney, she was secretly seeing a cop,” Zoe explained in hushed and dramatic tones. “When things went bad she had him beat up in the street and then he burned down her club. Now she’s engaged to the gangster, Henry Stokes, and she’ll do anything to keep other women away from him.”

“Like what?” Lola asked.

“You think I’m going to risk ending up face down in the Yarra to find out?”

“I guess that’s fair warning then,” Lola nodded. “So, have you been doing this long?” She changed the subject. “Being a hostess, I mean.”

“I’ve worked for a couple different places, but I’ve been doing this since I was eighteen and other odd jobs since I was fourteen,” Zoe said. She selected one of her dresses off a nearby hook and started to take off her afternoon frock. “What about you?”

“Same,” Lola said. “The money’s better than my sister makes as a maid, that’s for sure.”

“This is good money,” Zoe agreed. “But it isn’t the best money to be made, though.”

“It’s not?” Lola asked, trying not to sound too excited. Zoe looked at her carefully then came and sat beside her.

“You asked me last night where to get a dose,” Zoe said in a quiet voice. 

“I’m still traumatized by my boyfriend’s death. It’s the only thing that helps me cope,” she explained. “I also have a friend, a banker, whose dealer moved to Adelaide. He buys a lot for parties. I just need to find someone we can buy from.”

“You know you can make a lot of money yourself if you’re the one your friends buy from,” Zoe said, her low voice dropping to a hushed whisper.

“I don’t know if I want to get into that,” Lola shook her head. “Just using is against the rules here.”

“If you do it out there,” Zoe nodded her head sideways to indicate outside the club. “Madam Venus will never know.”

“And it’s good money?”

“The best you can make in Melbourne, unless you're a major supplier.”

“So who do I talk to?”

“Tonight I’ll introduce you to Mr. Ling,” Zoe smiled. “He’s always looking for eager new sellers.”

“All right,” Lola said. “I do need the money.” She waited until Zoe had finished changing and gone upstairs, then Lola quietly entered Madam Venus’ office, as they had agreed she could do as needed, and picked up the telephone. 

“Detective Inspector Robinson,” came the voice on the other end of the line, and Nell suddenly felt calmer. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been, interacting with the other girls under false pretenses. 

“Sir, it’s Constable Williams.”

“Good evening Constable. Everything alright?”

“Zoe is going to introduce me to Mr. Ling tonight. I won’t deny I’m nervous about it.”

“Your job is to gather information, so do as much of that as you can without committing to anything,” the Inspector said. “If you can get the location of his warehouse or safehouse, that will help the task force immensely. And don’t break your cover.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. 

“Miss Fisher has ensured that Madam DeRosier has your back,” the Inspector continued. “Plus, we have another one of our own - from the task force - undercover there as well, and I will tell him to keep an eye on you, too.”

“We do? Oh, that’s good to know.” Nell exhaled heavily, suddenly feeling a lot less alone. 

“Don’t worry, Constable. You’ll do fine and you are covered.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

+++

Jack hung up the phone and checked his watch, then picked up the handset again. 

“Mick, it’s Jack,” he said when Mick answered the phone.

“How ya goin’, Jacko? I was just about to leave for my nightly dose of depression at Club Phoenix.”

“Then I’m glad I caught you. I have some information and possibly some good news.”

“Fire away.”

“Remember I mentioned how the Eddie Spencer case has us investigating some things at Club Phoenix,” Jack began. “Well, we have another undercover agent in the club as one of the hostesses.”

“Really,” Mick’s voice rose with curiosity.

“She’s supposed to be meeting with Mr. Ling tonight because he’s become a person of interest in the Spencer case, but her safety is a concern. I need you to keep an eye on her without breaking your cover, or hers.”

“Who is she?”

“Constable Nell Williams, otherwise known as Lola.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line and Jack was wishing he could have seen Mick’s face. 

“You’re not having a lark with me, are you Jacko?”

“I wouldn’t joke with you about police business, Mick,” Jack assured him. 

“Well, that’s just bloody brilliant,” Mick said, his tone of voice already sounding more upbeat. 

“I’ve only told her that we have a task force officer inside, but not who,” Jack explained. “Just keep an eye on her, make sure nothing happens to her, and don’t break your cover.”

“I think I can manage that,” Mick said. “Thanks, mate.”

“Good luck, and try to have a good time,” Jack said.

“I think that’s a given now,” Mick replied, his smile coming through the line loud and clear. They said their goodbyes, and Jack shook his head as he hung up the phone. Maybe Mick’s luck was about to change.

+++

“Henry, what are you doing here?” Venus asked when he let himself into their suite. “Is everything all right?”

“Cooper’s taking care of things tonight,” he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “I’m here to back you up in case anything goes wrong with Zoe and Mr. Ling.” He pulled back his jacket, revealing a holstered revolver against his rib cage.

“Well, I’m sure that won’t be necessary, but I do appreciate the gesture,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but we have two undercover Victoria police officers with us for a few days, so if things do go awry, they should be able to take charge of the situation.”

“Two? That seems excessive,” Henry said.

“One is with the drug task force, investigating Mr. Ling. The other is part of the Eddie Spencer investigation, trying to get information from Zoe. As far as I know, neither knows the other one is here.”

“Should I buy tickets to this cavalcade of intrigue?” Henry joked and Venus laughed. 

“I have a complimentary front row seat for you, as long as you promise to stick close all night so I can show you off.”

“Like some damned trophy?”

“Exactly,” she grinned at him and he made a face, but put up no further protest. 

+++

“Good evening, Lola.” Her stomach fluttered at the Irish accent and she turned carefully toward it, schooling her features, remembering her job.

“Mr. Flaherty,” she smiled, rubbing the edge of his lapel between her fingers. “So nice to see you again.”

“Would you like to have a drink, lass?” He smiled and held out his elbow for her, his mood much more jovial than last night, which made him that much more good looking. 

“I would love to,” she said, and led him to a table across the bar where she could watch the whole room. “I’m glad to see you tonight,” she said after the waiter took their orders: One Irish whiskey, and one Lady Phoenix, no umbrella. “I wasn’t sure you’d return after last night. You seemed so disappointed.”

“My client agreed to meet me here,” Mr. Flaherty said. “Hopefully he and I will have a few moments to talk between enjoying the other ‘benefits’ of club membership.” He put just enough emphasis on the word “benefits” to cause the flutter in her stomach to increase. If Mr. Flaherty wanted to fully enjoy his membership, Nell would happily oblige. 

“And it’s my job to make sure you enjoy all that Club Phoenix has to offer,” she flirted. The waiter brought their drinks and she lifted hers to him. 

“To benefits, then,” he said and tapped his glass to hers. 

“You seem to be much more cheerful tonight,” she commented.

“I am. Not only is my client meeting me here, but my fortune teller said my luck is about to change.”

“Is that so?” she said. “Do you believe in that stuff?”

“They say luck is where preparation meets opportunity, lass, and who am I to turn down an opportunity?”

“To opportunities, then,” she said and they tapped glasses again. He was watching her over the rim of his glass as they drank, his green eyes holding hers, drawing her in. 

“And speaking of opportunities,” she said, feeling bold. She leaned closer and rested her hand lightly on his knee. “Would you like to take an opportunity to enjoy one of the many benefits of Club Phoenix? Maybe, behind one of those curtains?”

“Ah, lass, the night is still young,” he stalled, but slid his hand up her arm. “And I hardly know ye.”

The warmth from his touch radiated through her. It wasn’t the first time she’d been attracted to a club member, but she wasn’t actually an employee this time. Maybe she could see him again, as herself, when her assignment was over. She did want to get to know him, but if she held back as was proper for a ‘nice’ girl, he might wonder why, and she couldn’t afford to blow her cover. “Isn’t that why you joined Club Phoenix, Mr. Flaherty?” she reasoned. “To spend time with women without having to get to know them first?”

+++

“True,” Mick nodded and held her hand. He was deeply conflicted. If she had just been another hostess, it would have been easy to justify spending a few minutes behind a curtain with her, as part of his assignment. But she was a fellow police officer, and possibly a woman he could actually see outside of work - a fact which brought out the deeply ingrained gentleman in him. He didn’t want to take advantage of her, but he didn’t want to push her away. How far could he go without blowing his cover or causing them both severe mortification? And the more she talked, the more he wanted to kiss her pretty lips. 

“How about we start with maybe five or ten minutes,” she was saying. “I know it can be hard to get comfortable right away. A little bit now, a little bit later…” she said encouragingly, her fingers moving to the knot of his tie. 

“Aye, lass,” he gulped. “Maybe just a few minutes. But I don’t want to miss meeting my client.”

“Then five minutes it is,” she said. She led him by the hand toward one of the curtained booths in the back of the room, swishing the heavy velvet fabric closed. They were bathed in soft, red lighting, making her even more beautiful. 

“Have a seat,” she invited him, waving her hand toward the broad, pillow-covered chaise. When he sat, she sat on his lap and draped her arms over his shoulders. Her perfume radiated off her skin and his heart rate increased. 

“Has it been a while?” she asked, gently combing her fingers through the short hair at the base of his skull. “Since you’ve been alone with a woman?” she added.

“Aye, lass,” he nodded sadly, the statement truer than Mick cared to admit. “Though not for lack of trying.”

“Then maybe I can help change that,” she said, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I think you just might,” he replied, his voice low and breathy, his heart pounding as he looked in her eyes. He cupped a hand behind her head and brought her closer, and when their lips touched his insides liquified and a moan escaped his throat. 

After a hesitant moment, something seemed to click and she relaxed into him, humming and returning his kisses with equal enthusiasm. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed as their kiss continued, and Mick allowed himself a moment to get lost in it. She ran her tongue along his lips and he chased it with his own, electricity zipping through his body as her lips parted allowing him access. He leaned back on the chaise, pulling her with him, forgetting everything else in favor of the tender weight of her body and the sweet taste of her mouth. 

“Mr. Flaherty,” she said, breaking their kiss and panting. “You’re going to make me want to quit my job.”

“I wouldn't want you to do that, lass,” he breathed, stroking her cheek. “You’re quite good at it.”

“This doesn’t feel like work,” she said. 

“No, no it doesn’t,” he replied and kissed her again.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER RATED **E**  
> Jack wonders if there's more to Eddie Spencer's murder than just drugs.  
> The muse has taken one of our favorite couples where angels - and most fanfic writers - fear to tread.  
> And, as The Eagles sang, there's gonna be a heartache tonight.  
> ++++

Jack’s shift ended at eight, technically, but he was never one to leave right on time - there was always something else to do, another lead to follow up on, another stack of reports to sign. Ideally he’d be home enjoying a delicious meal with Phryne and discussing the case, but they’d followed up on every lead they had so far, and were now just waiting for more information from “Lola” and the toxicology report on Eddie Spencer. Sometimes, it was a waiting game, and Phryne had little patience for that. So she’d headed out to another charity function for the evening and Jack chose to stay on at the station rather than sit around Wardlow by himself, or, heaven forbid, attend yet another charity function. 

The Spencer case files were spread out across his desk and he was making notes and rechecking all the evidence. Paperwork was another item on Phryne’s “least favorite things” list, but he found the solitary, methodical nature of it to have a calming, zen-like quality that helped him focus. 

His new rank as Supervisor had allowed him to procure a confidential report from the drug task force, detailing which officers were assigned and what their activities had been since it’s formation just a few months ago. Some of the members were publicly known, others were not. The public list was topped by Deputy Commissioner Roderick Maxwell, and included a handful of mid-level leadership at Russell Street, the kind who enjoyed talking to the press and never really got their hands dirty. The rest were lower to mid-level officers and senior constables. Not the collection of men that would instill fear into the hearts of Melbourne’s underworld.

The second, unpublished list was more interesting. The names included some of the best, and toughest, detectives on the force, a few of whom worked strictly undercover. Mick’s name was on the unpublished list. 

Jim Spencer’s name was struck through.

Now Jack knew why Commissioner Rogers had so swiftly and summarily blocked Jim from the investigation into Eddie’s death, aside from the family connection. The list also included names of civilian informants, although only by nickname or initials. None of the nicknames matched up with known associates of Henry Stokes, and although that couldn’t be a guarantee, it was a point in Stokes’ favor. Phryne would be pleased. 

Jack didn't think the initials would be any help, and his tired eyes were causing them to blur together anyway. He’d have Collins cross reference the list with more information in the morning. Just as he was closing the folder, however, the last set of initials on the bottom of the list caught his eye: “JESj”. 

It was the lower-case “j” that made it stand out, an indication of “junior”. “JES junior,” he said aloud. The lightbulb lit up in Jack’s mind as more pieces started to fit together. 

+++

Hugh had been thinking about his conversation with the Inspector all day. He had made physical intimacy sound so matter-of-fact, so normal - which, indeed, it was - that Hugh wondered why he was still so embarrassed by it. He and Dot had been married a year already, and were enjoying their private moments immensely, with all the discoveries and delights thereof. It wasn’t that he was unhappy or unsatisfied, quite the opposite; he simply wanted more. He’d sneakily read most of that “banned book” Miss Fisher had given him so he knew there was more. Dot lived with Miss Fisher for a year, with all the male visitors coming and going, so Dot knew there was more. And now that the Inspector and Miss Fisher were together, he was certain they were doing everything in that book and more. So how could he bring up the subject with Dot without her being scandalized and never wanting him to touch her again?

He knew there were certain things the Catholic church didn’t allow, and Dot was deeply devoted to following the precepts of the faith. But he had also seen her go against those precepts in service to an investigation with Miss Fisher, or to help someone in need. Maybe she might bend the rules for him. Maybe he’d try tonight. 

“Thank you for your help, Hugh,” Dot said when they’d finished drying the dishes. “Now I’ll have some extra time to get that knitting done for the fete.”

“Dot,” Hugh took her gently by the hand, stepping close. “You work too hard for them. Take a night off, be with me.”

“Hugh,” she began.

“Or, maybe not the entire night off,” he revised his offer, pulling her against him. “Maybe just the next fifteen to thirty minutes.”

“Hugh,” she grinned up at him. “Now?”

“Yes, right now,” he wagged his eyebrows at her and she gave him his favorite conspiratorial smile as she wrapped her arms around his middle. 

“All right,” she said, “but there’s still some laundry on the bed that needs folding, and-” 

“Who says we need the bed?” They’d made out in the kitchen before, but had always ended up running to the bedroom. This time, Hugh wasn’t going to let that happen. 

“Well, of course we need the b-” Hugh silenced her with a kiss. She stiffened from the surprise, but as his arms circled more closely around her, she relaxed and kissed him back. He smoothed his hands over her backside, pressing her against him, and a mewling sigh escaped her throat.

“Hugh,” she breathed as he trailed kisses down her neck, and he knew that was the moment she’d completely forgotten about her knitting. He pressed his advantage and guided her back against the kitchen wall, fondling her breasts and pulling up her dress. She clung to him, panting and grabbing fistfuls of his undershirt as he made his intentions known and his mouth found hers again. 

He carefully reached between her legs and stroked her through her knickers and her knees weakened and a pretty little cry tumbled off her lips. 

“Wait, Hugh,” she panted.

“What is it, Dottie,” he whispered against her neck. 

“Don’t you want to lie down?”

“No,” he replied, reaching for his belt.

“But if we don’t do it the right way, it’s a sin.”

“We’re married, Dottie,” he reasoned. “There’s no wrong way.”

“But, Hugh.”

“Do you want to stop, Dottie?”

“No, but, I,” she hesitated and looked him in the eyes. He saw concern, but he also saw desire and curiosity. He moved his hand against the heat building between her thighs and she caught her breath. She looked at him again, and this time her eyes blazed with the same heat as her body and the curl of her lips held a challenge. 

“Hurry up and get those pants off, Hugh Collins before I change my mind,” she said, tightening her grip around his neck and catching his mouth with a kiss. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with gusto against her mouth, and made quick work of his trousers and smalls. As soon as they were down around his ankles she wrapped her hand around his growing enthusiasm and the stars started to spin behind his eyelids. 

Dot kicked off her shoes and he lifted her dress to pull down her knickers. She spread her palms over his arse as he pressed himself against her abdomen, and it was at this point he realized their height difference was going to be a challenge.

“Lift me up, Hugh,” Dot said, and it took a second for the instruction to register. When it did, he grinned at her, recognizing he had a willing partner in the experiment, and he hoisted her up while pressing her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and looked him in the eye. “Whenever you’re ready,” she whispered and he gulped. 

With only eye contact for communication, he lowered her slowly until her hot, wet skin was resting on the tip of his manhood. She nodded and they took a deep breath together, then she slid down over him, and they both gasped with delighted surprise when the connection was finally complete. 

“Oh, god, Hugh,” Dot breathed as her head rolled back against the wall. He bent to kiss her neck and started thrusting, realizing that all the other motions were the same from here on out, but the new position was sending him toward the edge faster than he’d expected. 

Dottie’s eyes were closed and her jaw slack, and she was moaning and whimpering like she always did. He tried to hold back for her, not knowing if this would end the same way for her as it would for him. “Are you alright, Dottie?” he whispered.

“Oh, Hugh, I’m so close,” she panted. “Just don’t stop.”

Hugh tried to think about filling out arrest paperwork for just a few more moments, watching Dot’s face, looking for signs. 

“Oh, OH,” she cried, and he could feel her tighten around him, and he thrust harder, faster. “O-OH!” she cried a little louder this time, her body stiffening and her thighs gripping him tightly. “OOOHH!” she hollered as her climax hit her, her cry echoing off the kitchen cabinets. 

His own release immediately followed hers as his mind went blank and his body convulsed with pleasure, while his own growling vocals were diffused into her shoulder.

“Oh, god, Hugh, oh, god…” she panted as her body went slack and he fought to keep her from falling while his own legs weakened underneath him. When his softened manhood slipped out of her, he held her close and lowered them both to the floor. When she was safely propped against the wall in a sitting position, he allowed himself to collapse flat on his back, with his bare arse against the cold kitchen tiles. 

“Hugh Collins, what got into you tonight?” Dot panted after a few moments.

“I thought it was time we tried something different,” he breathed, not moving a muscle, just reveling in the lazy feel of his body. 

“That can’t be all,” she countered. “Tell me the truth.”

Hugh didn’t really want to, but he’d discovered that keeping things from Dottie was a fool’s errand. “It’s this case,” he said finally, rolling onto his side and propping his head up. “We think Eddie Spencer and a woman were having, um, relations against the wall in the laneway before he was killed. Beads from her dress were found on the ground next to the wall. The Inspector said they could have been ripped off while they were, you know.”

“And you thought you’d want to try something that those kinds of people do?” Dot’s voice rose in shock. “What kind of woman do you think I am, Hugh?”

“A modern one,” he said calmly, reaching out his hand for hers. “One that lived with Miss Fisher for a year and has certainly heard - or heard about - a lot more interesting things than what we just did.”

“Maybe I’m not modern about everything,” she hedged. 

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Of course, but,” she began, hesitated, then sighed and shook her head. “It was brilliant,” she finished, giving him that conspiratorial smile again. “But I still don’t know if it’s acceptable,” she sighed. 

“If you still feel bad about it in the morning, go to confession,” he said, rolling to his back again. “I won’t be, but you should if you need to.”

She crawled over to him and straddled his hips, pulling her dress aside to settle her crotch overtop of him. She was still warm and wet from their joining and he felt a twitch deep in his groin despite how recently that joining had been. 

“There are a lot of things that a good Catholic girl should go to confession for,” she stated, a new look in her eye and a sly curl on her lips. “But I’m a modern,” she pulled her dress over her head. “Married,” she added, pulling off her slip. “Catholic,” she continued, removing her brassiere and placing her hands on her hips. “Woman, and I won’t be going to confession for anything we do, in or out of the bedroom.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Hugh gulped, stunned by how she’d stripped for him and emboldened by her words. He pulled her down to him and kissed her, smoothing his hands over her body and wondering what she had in mind next. “But can we go to the bedroom now, Dottie? The floor is a little cold.”

“I think I can manage that,” she grinned, and Hugh realized things were going to be very different from now on. 

+++

Nell sat at her vanity in the dressing room touching up her makeup and catching her breath. She had excused herself from Mr. Flaherty’s presence after almost ten minutes behind the curtain. All they had done was kiss, but it had been intense and thrilling and her reaction had been completely unexpected. In that moment, she decided that she would seek him out after her undercover assignment was over. She just hoped that he would still be interested in her as a police constable.

She'd had to stop before it went beyond kissing, however, or her newly-built reputation as a “nice girl” would be ruined. Even though it was an undercover assignment, some men just wouldn’t understand. She had to walk a fine line, but she welcomed the challenge. Something had happened in that alcove; something more than a hostess and a club member. Nell hoped he had noticed it, too. 

“Lola.” Zoe swished into the seat beside her and eagerly whispered her name. “Mr. Ling is here. Are you still interested?”

“Yes, but…,” Nell hesitated, her uneasiness was only partly an act. “Tell him I’m just curious, you know? I’m not sure if I want to do it yet. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Try to stay calm and don’t ask too many questions,” Zoe advised. “Also, he can be very charming, but don’t be fooled - underneath it all he’s just another arse.”

“Thanks for the head’s up.”

“It won’t be right away,” Zoe said. “He’s watching Margo belly dance right now, so after that.”

“Thanks,” Nell said and Zoe got up to leave. Looking in the mirror, Nell gave herself a silent pep talk. This was what she’d come here to do: Talk to people who might know what happened to Eddie Spencer, and from what Miss Fisher had said, Mr. Ling was one of those people. She knew to look for a missing, red silk button, but how to get the information she needed without asking “too many questions” was the trick. 

A few minutes later, she entered the lounge and looked around for Zoe. Her eyes instead came to land on Mr. Flaherty, deep in conversation with another man who she assumed was the client he’d come to meet. They laughed, and the unknown man turned in his chair and Nell saw the red silk waistcoat under his dark suit. 

“That’s him over there,” Zoe said, coming to stand by her elbow. “With the red silk waistcoat.” Nell’s heart thudded in her chest, as she watched Mr. Flaherty shake hands with Mr. Ling and pat him on the back. A deal had been struck with that handshake and Nell’s heart was struck a blow. Mr. Flaherty was just another greedy bastard, in cahoots with the rest of the underworld. She cursed herself for her naivete’, and was glad she’d found out now before she’d stupidly thrown herself at him. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Zoe said when Mr. Flaherty left the table. He looked around the room as he walked away, caught her eye and smiled, but Nell just stared back, a cold curtain falling over her heart. His smile drooped and he looked down, disappointed, then left. Nell hoped she’d never see him again. 

+++

Mick cursed himself as he ducked into the men’s room. Lola didn’t know who he was, didn’t know they were on the same side. What she’d seen was a ruse, an act, but her eyes revealed she’d felt betrayed. The icy glare she’d given him chilled his gut from across the room, and all he could do was get out of there. 

His conversation with Ling had been productive and he’d gathered some quality information that would help set up a decent raid, but the cost to his hopes with Lola was devastating. The fact that she was angry with him only proved that she’d felt the same thing he had in that curtained alcove: they’d gone in as hostess and club member, but came out as something completely different. He only hoped that when their assignments were over he could smooth things out with her and start fresh. 

For now, he had to stick around and keep an eye on Lola, to be her secret backup against Ling, while she stared frozen daggers at him. He went back into the lounge and took up a spot near a large potted palm where he could keep an unobtrusive watch. 

++++

“Well, this is getting interesting,” Venus said to Henry as they stood in the back of the room. “Undercover jack number one talks to Mr. Ling, then receives death glare from undercover jack number two before Zoe introduces number two to Mr. Ling.”

“What does the death glare have to do with anything?” Henry asked. 

“I’m not sure, but it was definitely a death glare,” Venus mused.

“If you say so.” Henry swigged down the last of his drink. He understood Venus’ interest in keeping a close eye on her girls, but ‘people watching’ bored him after a few moments. He was enjoying the stage show, however, and was pleased with the talent and variety of the performers Venus had brought on board. His own talent at selecting a winning investment was on full display at Club Phoenix. 

“Is a police officer still a jack if it’s a female?” Venus asked. “Or would it be a jill?”

“You think too hard,” Henry chuckled and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

+++

“Mr. Ling, please meet Lola, the girl I mentioned to you earlier.” Zoe bowed slightly and Lola followed her lead. 

“Please, sit ladies,” Mr. Ling said graciously, and Zoe indicated that Lola should sit closest to Mr. Ling. She took that moment to scan her eyes over Mr. Ling’s waistcoat, noticing the buttons were just as Miss Fisher described, except that the third button down had been replaced with a plain red one. Identity confirmed.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Zoe said, offering Mr. Ling a brief bow, then moved on.

“Miss Lola,” Mr. Ling began. “Zoe says you’re looking for some additional work outside of this fine establishment.”

“That would be right, Mr. Ling,” she said, smiling and fingering his lapel, flirting as she would with any club member. “I sure could use the money.”

“I don’t hire just anyone, Miss Lola,” Mr. Ling said. “I expect strict loyalty and the utmost discretion.” 

“Qualities I’m already practicing while working here.” She leaned closer to him, batted her eyelashes. 

“Zoe said you had a friend who buys large quantities for parties?” Ling asked.

“Yes, he’s a banker. Has loads of money.”

“What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”

“You must understand I can’t tell you that,” Lola said, leaning even closer, fingering Mr. Ling’s tie. “All part of maintaining the utmost discretion for my customers.”

A grin broke out on Ling’s face. “Touche’, Miss Lola,” he said. “May we continue this discussion in private?” He flicked his eyes toward the door, and Lola smiled, even while her stomach dropped. 

“Of course, Mr. Ling,” she said. She stood and he followed her out of the room. On her way she glanced at Madam Venus, who nodded in her direction. As she was exiting the lounge into the hall, she saw Madam Venus moving slowly toward the door behind her. Mr. Ling didn’t seem to notice, as he was running his fingers up and down her spine. Lola wondered if Zoe had to service Mr. Ling as well.

“Is this good?” she asked, holding back the curtain on one of the booths in the hall, a different one than she and Mr. Flaherty had been in. Madam Venus’ silver dress glittered in the corner of her eye, reassuring her. 

“This will do nicely,” he nodded. As she pulled the curtain closed and sat down next to him on the chaise, her inner defenses started to rise, as they had always done in the past before she serviced a member at the Imperial Club, protecting her heart and mind from experiencing any emotions while doing her job. 

“Miss Lola,” Mr. Ling said slowly, seductively, smoothing his hands up her thighs. “Come sit on my lap.”

Lola did so, allowing her dress to ride up her thighs. Mr. Ling’s fingers found the edge of her stocking top and moved higher up her bare leg. Bile rose in her throat, as it usually did when she was with an unattractive man, but she swallowed it down. 

“What do I need to do to start selling for you, Mr. Ling?” she asked playfully, running her fingers through his straight hair. 

“You’re doing it,” he said, and nuzzled into her cleavage. Lola swallowed hard and pressed on. 

“Mr. Ling, is there something specific you require?”

He looked up at her and a sneering smile spread across his face. “Do you have any specialties, Miss Lola?”

“Have you heard of the Parisian butterfly?” she asked, placing her hand over his crotch.

“No, but your willingness to serve is quite admirable,” Ling said. “You see, I was injured many years ago and cannot enjoy the same pleasures as most men. Therefore, I will be satisfied if you would simply lower the top of your dress for me.”

“Of course,” Lola nodded. Fortunately, her sleeveless dress was easy to slide off her shoulders, and the style was too daring for a brassire, so she was soon bare chested. Mr. Ling’s sneering smile grew wider as he ogled her. 

“Perfect,” he said. Lola wasn’t sure what to expect, and in all her time as a hostess she’d never felt so exposed. Yet, she gathered up her nerve and decided to play it cheeky.

“I’ve always liked them,” she replied to his compliment, cupping her breasts and pushing them together, turning side to side, showing them off.

“Miss Lola, you know how to tempt me,” he said. His eyes gleamed as he bent his head toward her breasts.

“But first,” she turned away and his mouth landed on her arm. “I need to know how selling for you works. How do I get the merchandise from you? Do I come to your place of business or do we meet somewhere? It can’t be here, though, because Madam Venus has strict policies about no drugs.”

“Impertinent wench,” he hissed. “Do you know who I am?”

“I know you want these,” she said. She slid off his lap and held her breasts up for him. His eyes moved hungrily over her before looking back up in her face. “You can have as much as you want,” she continued. “But I need to know how it works.”

“You women these days,” he snarled. “You think you can control men with your bodies. You have no shame.”

“I won’t be shamed by you, Mr. Ling, but I will sell lots of your drugs and make both of us a lot of money, but not before I know what I need to know.” Now that she knew his weakness, she used it to her advantage and started caressing one of her breasts. He gulped and licked his lips. 

“Fine, then, you brazen harlot,” he spat, but Lola was no longer scared of him. She sat back on the other end of the chaise in such a way that her chest was arched up by a pillow at her back, and continued to caress herself, even rolling and pinching her nipples as he stammered his instructions. 

“We will choose a dedicated spot where I will meet you every week. Usually a laneway that is mutually convenient. Same time and place every week. If you are not there when I drive up, you will not get your weekly supply. You will give me all your proceeds for the week and I will give you back ten percent. You will sell for the price I set, no less. If your weekly payments are short, there will be consequences.”

“What if I run out in the middle of the week, and need more? Should I come to your warehouse and pick it up?”

“I will give you a number to call, then meet you at our location.”

“I’ve heard your doses are the best, that they’re blended. What makes them so special?”

“I can’t reveal everything,” he said.

“I can always put my dress back,” she said.

He spat a few curses at her in Chinese before continuing. “Yes, I cut my cocaine with a special ingredient that makes the high more intense, but I won’t tell you what it is.” She rewarded him by fondling herself more enthusiastically.

“What if the jacks pick me up? Will you bail me out?”

“Of course not, you’re on your own. But if I hear of a coming raid, I’ll try to let you know so you can avoid it.”

“How thoughtful of you,” she said. “But how would you hear of a raid?” She sat up and leaned toward him, taking one of his hands and placing it on her breast. He sighed and the answer almost fell from his lips.

“I have eyes and ears in every police station in this city,” he said, fondling her. She moved back to his lap and let him use both hands, but she held his face away from her chest until her question was fully answered. “I know who is on the new task force, and I even know the autopsy findings for that young man who died of an overdose the other day. Eddie Spencer. He was one of my customers.”

“You’re being very forthcoming, Mr. Ling,” she said. 

“Knowledge is power, Miss Lola,” he said, his eyes and voice darkening. “If you use this knowledge against me and go to the police, you will find that I have the power to eliminate you, just like Eddie Spencer.”

Lola was stunned for a moment, realizing that Ling had just admitted to killing Eddie. Her academy training shouted “arrest him!” in her mind, but she knew that wasn’t possible in the moment. She had to play her part for now. 

“Then I will certainly hold my tongue, Mr. Ling,” she said, letting go of his face. His mouth descended upon her breasts like a hungry man and she let her mind drift away until he was satisfied. 

+++

Mick watched Lola lead Mr. Ling out of the lounge and to one of the curtained booths. He hated that she would have to degrade herself with that cretin in order to do her job, but she was brave to do so. Madam DeRosier had also moved to the hall and was chatting with a prominent judge as an excuse for keeping her eyes on Lola, while Stokes remained in position at the back of the lounge. Madam DeRosier had told Mick that Stokes was there, as another watchful, protective presence. It seemed strange to be ad hoc partners with a gangster and a madam, but Christopher Ling’s presence was unwanted in many parts of the city.

He checked his watch: six minutes behind the curtain. If it went longer than ten he would find a way to break it up, if for no other reason than to defend Lola’s honor. He’d even thought up a way to do it without breaking his cover, although it would only make her hate him more. 

The curtain finally flew open and Lola strode out, and Mick caught a glimpse of Ling sprawled backwards over the chaise. She nodded at Madam DeRosier then headed for the bar. Mick waited a few minutes before ambling after her. 

+++

“I found you someone else to sell for you,” Zoe said. “And she’s got rich friends. What more do you want from me?” Mr. Ling had caught up to her in a dark corner of the lounge and she was trying to make it look like she was flirting with him, even while they were arguing.

“How much do you know about Lola,” Mr. Ling asked. “She asked a lot of questions and you know I don’t like questions.”

“I told her not to,” Zoe said. She fingered his lapels but her voice reflected the undercurrent of irritation this whole situation had brought her. “Are you going to hire her?”

“Of course I am,” Mr. Ling said. “It will be nice to have another police connection in my network.” His evil grin spread across his face.

“Police connection?” Zoe repeated, stunned. “What do you mean?”

“All those questions.” Mr. Ling clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “They had a certain constabulary feel to them.”

“Lola’s a cop?”

“Or she is working for them. I would be very careful what you say to her, Zoe.”

“How are you going to get a cop to sell drugs for you?”

“The fate of Eddie Spencer is a nice threat. It’s working so well with you.” Ugh, that grin again, Zoe thought. 

“Go jump in the Yarra,” Zoe hissed. She’d had enough of Mr. Ling. 

Quick as a flash he reached up and pressed a finger hard against the back of her jaw. She wilted against him as pain and horror shot through her, and he held her to him with his other arm around her back. To anyone looking on, they would appear caught in a romantic embrace. “You are becoming far too defiant, and that is a liability for my business. Liabilities get eliminated. Eddie Spencer was a liability.”

Zoe couldn’t speak - the pressure from Mr. Ling’s fingers on her jaw under her ear seemed to freeze all the nerves in her mouth, preventing her from making any sound. Mr. Ling wouldn’t cause her bodily harm in such a public place, would he?

“Let her go.” 

Zoe felt the low, rumbly voice behind her as much as heard it. 

“Henry Stokes,” Mr. Ling greeted him with a fake smile. “How nice to see you again.”

“It won’t be nice if you don’t let her go.” 

Zoe wasn’t sure what Mr. Stokes’ plan was, but she was hoping he’d hurry it up because Mr. Ling was pressing even harder. 

“This harlot?” Mr. Ling spat. In one swift move he spun Zoe around and pushed her straight into Mr. Stokes, who caught her and held her to him. His firm chest and strong arms were a welcome bulwark against Mr. Ling’s anger, and she rubbed her neck to chase the pain where Mr. Ling had been pressing. 

“I think you’re done for the evening, Ling,” Mr. Stokes said, keeping his voice low and dangerous. 

“Are you the doorman now?” Mr. Ling sneered. “Doing the bidding of your little woman?”

“Leave now, Mr. Ling.” Madam Venus’ voice, crackling with intensity, came from behind him and he turned to face her. “Tomorrow we will discuss how you’ve breached your membership contract by assaulting one of my hostesses. For now, take the evening to think about your behavior and I will consider my options after you make your apology tomorrow.”

Ling seemed about to say something, then thought better of it and walked out of the lounge. Mr. Stokes and Madam Venus shared a look, then Madam Venus followed Ling out. 

“Are you all right, Zoe,” Mr. Stokes asked her, holding her at arm's length now. 

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Zoe exhaled, even though her jaw was still in pain. 

“Zoe, are you all right?” asked Electra and Selena, rushing to her side. Selena draped her own shawl around Zoe and guided her by the arm. “C’mon, let’s go downstairs and get you a cuppa. Mrs. Merkle will have you feeling alright in no time.” 

Zoe let them lead her away, but she glanced back at Mr. Stokes from the doorway. Now that she’d been in his arms and felt his deep, gravelly voice rumble in his chest, she wanted to experience it again under less dangerous circumstances.

+++

Mick found Lola sitting at the far end of the bar, where he’d been last night, staring into a glass of whiskey. He hesitated before approaching, but he couldn’t leave it like it was. 

“You alright, lass?” He asked quietly, sliding into the chair next to hers

“Leave me alone, I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. She picked up a paper umbrella and opened it and popped it into the top of her glass and looked around, then turned to level her cold gaze at him again. “Please.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Lola,” he began, trying one more time. “I know how it must look, but you’re wrong about me and soon I’ll be able to prove it to you.”

“I told you to leave me alone, Mr. Flaherty, or I will tell Madam DeRosier you’re harassing me.”

“I just don’t want you to think badly of me until you know the whole story, lass.”

“I’ll think whatever I like, and I think you’re just another crim on the take,” she asserted, her voice trembling with anger and disgust. “Maurie was right, you’re all the same.” She splashed her drink in his face and stormed off.

“Yeah, I guess that’s what you would think,” Mick sighed, wiping his face with a tea towel tossed his way by the silent but sympathetic bartender. He quickly made his retreat from Club Phoenix and headed toward City Central to file his report, then he’d go home and drink himself to sleep. 

+++++

Jack was just about ready to leave when a young woman’s voice broke the silence in the lobby and reached into his office.

“I want to speak to a detective,” she said to the night duty constable.

“I’m Detective Inspector Robinson,” Jack said, walking out of his office. “May I help you?” The young woman standing at the counter gave him the wide-eyed look of a hunted rabbit. 

“I want to report a murder.”

“Whose murder, miss?”

“Eddie Spencer’s.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack conducts a revealing interview of a prime suspect, and somebody's luck runs out.  
> ++++

“It’s just a nerve tonic, darling. The doctor said it will help you sleep.” Jim Spencer sat on the edge of the bed and handed the shot glass to his wife. 

“That sure would be helpful,” Sarah said before swigging down the amber liquid. “Oh, Jim, I don’t think I’ll ever get over losing Eddie.”

“I know,” he nodded, letting her grip his hand tightly. “We’re not supposed to outlive our children.”

“Well, I decided earlier that when I feel better, maybe in a couple weeks, I’m going to go back to volunteering at the orphanage, like I used to do before Eddie was born. In Eddie’s honor.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, darling. I’m sure Eddie would appreciate that.”

Sarah yawned deeply and sunk back into the pillows. 

“Have a good night’s sleep, my love,” Jim said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. 

“Good night, darling,” she replied groggily, and was asleep within moments. Jim shut the door quietly on his way out of the bedroom and found his mother-in-law knitting in the parlor by the fire. 

“She’s asleep, Mother Nelson.”

“That’s good,” the older woman said. “I know you’re just as devastated by the loss, but you’re being so good to Sarah. You two will get through this together.”

“Thank you, Mother Nelson. I hope so.”

“Are you going to retire now, too?”

“No, a friend of mine asked me over for a pint, to talk about Eddie. His boy used to play with Eddie when we lived in Fitzroy. I didn’t want to leave Sarah while she was awake. I won’t be gone long, but don’t feel like you have to wait up.”

“I’ll probably sit by the fire for a little longer, but will retire soon myself.”

“I’ll see you in the morning then,” Jim said. He shrugged into his topcoat and donned his hat before stepping out into the night. 

+++

“Then I suppose you’d better come through.” Jack held open the wooden gate for the young woman and gave the on-duty constable a head nod to follow them into the interview room. So much for going home, he thought, rubbing his eyes and sitting down across the table from her.

“Why don’t we start with your name,” Jack said.

“Emily Farnsworth, but,” she hesitated.

“But what? Jack said.

“But people call me Zoe.”

“Zoe? Do you happen to work at Club Phoenix” Jack had a hunch who she was when she’d said Eddie’s name, but he needed her to confirm it. 

“Yes, sir.”

“And how do you know Eddie Spencer was murdered?

“Because I was the one who injected him with the overdose of cocaine,” she looked down, suddenly overcome by what she’d just said. 

“Tell me what happened,” Jack said quietly. 

“Eddie called Club Phoenix on Saturday night and told the doorman he was my brother and that my mother was very ill and I should come quickly. It was our secret code. We met at Tiny’s Tavern; Eddie said he wanted to drown his sorrows. We had a couple drinks, then he wanted to leave so we could be alone, and usually he would buy cocaine from me.” She paused and looked at Jack with apprehension.

“I’m not interested in the drug charges right now, Miss Farnsworth,” he assured her. “Just tell me about the murder.” She nodded and continued.

“Eddie wanted something else instead first, so he was kissing me against the wall, and it was going good, you know? Then Mr. Ling showed up.”

“Christopher Ling?”

“Yes, he’s the man I get the drugs from to sell.”

“Go on.”

“He threatened Eddie. Said Eddie was a liability.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did Eddie know Mr. Ling? Had they met before?”

“Once. Eddie and I were together on the corner where I usually meet Mr. Ling every week, and Mr. Ling happened to drive by so he pulled over to talk and I introduced him to Eddie. They didn’t really talk much.”

“Did Eddie and Mr. Ling ever meet by themselves, without you?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So what happened after Mr. Ling threatened Eddie in the laneway?”

“They argued, and there was some shoving. Eddie said he was giving up drugs and that he knew what Mr. Ling was up to and he looked forward to watching him go down.”

“Did it sound like Eddie was threatening Mr. Ling?”

“I didn’t think so, but Mr. Ling did. He had a couple of his thugs with him and they jumped Eddie and used some Chinese fighting moves on him. Mr. Ling was holding him by the back of the jaw,” she touched herself in the spot under her ear and winced. “Eddie was in a lot of pain but couldn’t hardly talk.”

“What did Ling say?”

“He said he knew the game Eddie was playing, and that he would make an example out of Eddie. Then he took a syringe out of his pocket and made me give Eddie the shot.”

“Made you, how?”

“Eddie had a gun in the back of his waistband under his coat. Mr. Ling took it and aimed it at me. Said he’d kill me and dump me in the Yarra. He had one of his thugs hold up Eddie’s leg so I could give him the shot in the ankle, ‘like a woman’, Mr. Ling said. He knew Eddie would hate that. So I gave him the shot and Mr. Ling took the syringe away from me.”

“When Eddie used cocaine, did he usually use a syringe?”

“Not that I know of. I only sold him little packets, a dozen at a time. He would just dump a whole packet in his mouth like a headache powder.”

“Do you know about what time it was that you gave Eddie the shot?”

“Maybe nine-thirty?”

“So what happened after you injected Eddie?”

“Mr. Ling let go of Eddie’s jaw and the two thugs just let Eddie drop to the pavement. He was moaning and in pain, so I knelt next to him to help him. Mr. Ling laughed and reminded me that I still had to meet my quota for the week. Then he and his thugs left.”

“So you were alone with Eddie?”

“Yes, I drug him to the doorway so he wouldn’t be in the middle of the laneway and stayed with him for a little while.”

“How long did you stay with him?”

“Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes? He was moaning and asking me to help him, but he couldn’t move and was too heavy for me. He said to get his father, Detective Spencer, but he said he was estranged from his father and I thought he was just speaking gibberish because of the drugs. Eventually he dozed off and started snoring, so I thought he’d be safe there for a little bit. I ran back to Tiny’s Tavern to try to call one of Eddie’s friends, but no one answered. I was afraid if I called the police, Eddie would get in trouble. I didn’t know who else to call, so I checked on him one more time and he was still breathing, so I ran back to Club Phoenix. I figured he’d wake up and get home on his own when the drugs wore off.”

“So you weren’t with him when he died?”

“No.” She looked down in her lap again, her shoulders hunched in remorse.

Jack paused to think through her comments. Something wasn’t lining up. “Miss Farnsworth, doesn’t cocaine make a person more awake and energized?”

“Yes,” a glimmer of realization passed across her face.

“So why did Eddie doze off if he was given a shot of cocaine?”

“I don’t know. Mr. Ling mixes things into his cocaine to make it stronger, so it could have been that, or I suppose it was some other drug. Like I said, Mr. Ling brought the syringe with him.”

“And he was alive when you left?”

“Yes. I thought he’d be fine. He’s done that once or twice before when he’s been drunk or the cocaine’s worn off - fallen asleep in the corner of a bar or laneway and made his way home by the morning. I wasn’t too worried about him. Then I read the paper on Monday morning.”

“How did you feel when you found out he’d died of an overdose?”

“Awful. I cried a lot. He was a nice bloke, always treated me right.”

“So why did you wait until tonight to come to the police?”

“I didn’t want Madam Venus to know I was selling drugs; she’d kick me out of Club Phoenix. But she let me leave early tonight because Mr. Ling threatened me at the club. He said I was a liability, too, because I knew about Eddie, and said I would end up like him. I thought if I confessed, I might not get the noose, but you could put me in jail away from Mr. Ling. I just want to stop selling for him. I even found him someone to take my place, but I don’t think he likes Lola, so she might be in danger, too.”

Jack’s eyebrows lifted at the mention of Lola. “And Lola is?”

“Another hostess at Club Phoenix. I introduced him to her tonight, but he threatened me after he talked to her. He thinks Lola is a cop because she asked too many questions.”

“Why did you come all the way to City South station when City Central and Russell Street stations are much closer to Club Phoenix?”

“Because the paper said you were handling the case and I wanted to talk to you. I didn’t expect to see you here, but I thought if you weren’t and I confessed to the murder, they’d hold me overnight and I could talk to you in the morning.”

“Miss Farnsworth, did you ever want to kill Eddie?”

“No, not at all. Like I said, he was always good to me and always paid me.”

“Did you have any indication that what was in the syringe could kill him?”

“No, I just thought it was liquid cocaine, like some of the ladies use.”

“Had you ever sold cocaine with a syringe?”

“No, Mr. Ling has a couple chemists he sends women to for that.”

“When you said earlier that Eddie wanted to drown his sorrows, what did he mean by that?”

“He said he had planned to ask his law school girlfriend to marry him, but she’d dumped him and didn’t want to get back together. He showed me the ring when we were in the laneway. I told him how pretty it was, but he was upset about it, so he chucked it hard against the other wall. I thought I might try to find it later, maybe sell it if Eddie didn’t want it anymore, but I forgot about it once Mr. Ling showed up.”

“You weren’t jealous?”

“I don’t get jealous, Inspector. If Eddie wanted to get married that didn’t mean I would lose him as a customer, for cocaine or sex.”

“Did you see anyone else in the laneway that night?”

“Just Talkie Trabant,” she said. “He doesn’t have a home, but he runs errands for people during the day. I gave him some money to leave the laneway so Eddie and I could be alone.”

“Talkie?”

“I think his first name might be Teddy? I heard they call him Talkie because he talks a lot, but he doesn’t seem like that to me,” she shrugged. There was a pause as Jack considered all the information she’d shared. “Are you going to lock me up?” Zoe asked.

“No,” Jack said. “I don’t have enough evidence, and you have no motive to kill Eddie. You were just a pawn in Christopher Ling’s game.”

“What about the drug charges?”

“Do you have any drugs on you right now?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t legally hold you, Miss Farnsworth,” Jack said. Her face fell. “Give me a few minutes to pack up and I’ll drive you safely home,” he said. 

“No,” she said quickly, swallowing her disappointment and putting on a brave face. “No, just drop me off at Parliament House in time to catch the ten o’clock tram.”

“You’re sure?” Jack noted that the ten o’clock tram from Parliament House was what Melburnians fondly called a “ghost tram” - the line went through North Melbourne to Flemmington all the way to Essendon Aerodrome, but the ten o’clock was the last run and ended at the depot near Ascot Vale, not completing its full route. If that was the tram she took, she lived somewhere along the line no further than the depot. She would be home soon enough.

“Yes, I, uh, I like taking the tram. It stops just a block from my house. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“All right then,” Jack agreed. “Constable Gruber will have you sign a statement form and then drop you off at the tram stop.” Constable Gruber nodded and tucked away his notebook, and Zoe followed him out to the front to sign the form. Gruber would type up her statement on the form when he returned. 

Jack had seen the trepidation in her eyes, and the fading hope when he told her he couldn’t hold her overnight, and his conscience wouldn’t let her go without offering some further measure of assistance. 

“Miss Farnsworth, may I have a word?” He motioned for her to step back into the hallway between the lobby and his office. “If you’re concerned for your safety, there are a few places I can call where you can stay the night.”

“Thank you, Inspector, but I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re sure? One phone call is all it takes.”

“I’m sure,” she nodded. 

There was nothing more Jack could do. The statement form she’d signed would have her address on it and he would send a constable around in the morning to check on her. In the meantime, interviewing Zoe had confirmed much of the evidence they already had, and shed light on new areas. Back in his office, he picked up the file on the drug task force and scanned down the list of initials. Sure enough, “TT” was one of them: Teddy “Talkie” Trabant. Now he just needed to figure out whose informant Teddy was, though he had a solid theory. He looked forward to discussing it with Phryne at home, if he could stay awake long enough.

+++

“Thank you, Constable,” Zoe said when he dropped her at the tram stop. “I do appreciate it.” She watched him drive away, then turned to sit on the bench and wait for the tram. She clamped her jaw tight to control her chattering teeth. From the moment she’d introduced Lola to Mr. Ling, the tension had begun to build in her body and now that she was alone and vulnerable, it had kicked into high gear. The chill night air had little to do with the rattling of her jaw. 

She’d avoided jail for most of her time working the streets, but tonight she would have welcomed the sparse hospitality of the City South watch house. Maybe she should have accepted Inspector Robinson’s offer of a safe house for the night. Tomorrow night she’d be safely ensconced at Club Phoenix, but until then… she swept the thought out of her mind. Ten more minutes and she’d be on her way home and she could slip into a hot bath and wash away the day. 

“Don’t make a fuss, Zoe, just come with me.” The rough male voice behind her was accompanied by a hard poke in her back. She stood and turned, the bench providing only a meager barrier between her and a heavy set man in a long coat and bowler hat, a scarf pulled up over his nose and mouth, and a gun pointed at her chest. He waved the gun to the side. “Move, let’s go.”

She looked around to see if anyone was nearby who might help, but there was no one close enough to make a difference. The man kept his gun out of sight in the drape of his coat while he grabbed her by the elbow and hustled her back across Spring Street into Little Bourke Street. Another half a block and he was leading her down a laneway and the adrenaline kicked in as her fear increased. 

Could she get away? She knew these laneways like the back of her hand with all their nooks and crannies. If she could get around a corner from his gun, she might have a chance. Her head swiveled left and right as she considered her options. 

“Don’t think you’re going to get away from me, girlie,” the man growled. “I know these streets as well as you and I know how to make your death look like just another random killing the police can’t solve. Who’s going to miss another whore, eh? Good riddance to bad rubbish, right?”

He shoved her face-first into the corner of a recessed door, and dug his gun into her ribcage. “Now, tell me why you killed Eddie.”

“Who are you?” she asked, her fear coming out as anger. She was going to miss her tram.

“That is none of your concern if you tell me what I need to know. Otherwise, I’m your worst nightmare. Now tell me why you killed Eddie.”

“I didn’t,” she insisted. “That was Christopher Ling.” The man was pushing her against the door with his knee to the small of her back, one hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and the other shoved the gun under her jaw, inches from where Mr. Ling had been pressing not two hours earlier. 

“Don’t try to pass off your crime, especially onto Melbourne’s most notorious drug lord. He doesn’t concern himself with small-time users like Eddie Spencer; that’s why he has pissants like you.”

“You’d be surprised,” Zoe said. “Mr. Ling said Eddie was a liability and liabilities had to be eliminated.” She couldn’t for the life of her figure out who this man was, or why he was so interested in Eddie, but she was starting to wonder if Eddie was into something far deeper than buying drugs from her. “Why don’t you go ask Mr. Ling himself,” she added.

“You were there, you saw Eddie die.”

“No, I didn’t see him die. He was alive when I went to get help,” she explained, spinning a story. She’d told Inspector Robinson the truth, but this man didn’t deserve it. “I thought I’d put him up in a nearby rooming house for the night. When we came back, he was gone.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me and some guy from a nearby pub, Frank, I think,” she lied quickly and easily. “He was trying to keep away from the cops so he disappeared when we realized Eddie was dead.”

“You’re lying!” the man growled again, shoving her hard against the door, her face rubbing into the peeling paint.

“Look, I was with Eddie, but Mr. Ling killed him and I tried to get help, but he died,” she said. 

“You left him to die alone!” The gun pressed deeper into her neck and his hot breath ghosted over her skin. 

“I went to get help!” she shouted in her own defense. Not even the police thought she was guilty of Eddie’s murder, otherwise she’d be in jail right now, so she wasn’t going to let this man add any more guilt to her account.

“Selfish whore!” the man spat. That was the last straw. It was time to change tactics and get away from him if she could. One of her arms had been pinned between her body and the door and was out of sight of the man, so she wiggled it free and reached slowly behind her. 

“Listen, Mister,” she said, softening her voice, faking as best she could. “You sound really tense.” Her hand found the outside of his thigh. “I could help you relax a bit, then you can go find Mr. Ling.” She slid her hand up his thigh, sliding it around to the inside of his leg as she went higher. 

“You little wench,” he groused, but he didn’t move. His breathing changed and he gulped, and his grip on her hair loosened slightly. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten out of a tight spot this way.

“It’ll only take a few minutes of your time,” she breathed. “And I like a tough guy now and then.” His breath was hot on her neck as he hesitated. His adrenaline needed somewhere to go. Her hand reached his crotch and she patted him gently, but that was the trigger that turned him off. 

“How dare you!” he rumbled, pulling his hand out of her hair, but before he could grab her wrist to pull her hand away, she caught his package in her grip and squeezed hard. He roared in pain, his body jerking away from her. The gun went off, barely missing her face. The bullet hit the door at point blank range and splinters of wood embedded into her cheek. She screamed, and ducked; shocked but emboldened. She turned, keeping her grip on him, twisting as she spun around, and he hollered again. The gun clattered to the pavement and she saw her opportunity. She let go of him and he fell to the pavement, writhing in pain. She grabbed the gun and ran.

Zoe turned corners left and right, and ducked through narrow passageways between buildings. She leaned against a wall for a moment to catch her breath, and tossed the gun into her bag. Taking off again, she rounded a corner and crashed into another human who was just as startled by it as she was, and hollered just as loudly in fear and surprise. 

“Talkie?” Zoe asked when she stepped back and focused on his face.

“Zoe! Are you alright?”

“I’ve been better. Trying to hide from a bad customer, y’know?”

“Can I help you?”

“Maybe you can,” she said, looking left and right. “Hold him off, alright? Tallish, older, burly, long coat and a bowler - if you see him, distract him so I can get away. Then I’ll buy you a beer at the Happy Daze.”

“Sure thing, Zoe. Go on.” Zoe nodded at Talkie and dashed off. She continued on, in a zig-zag pattern through the laneways, aiming for the establishment of her last employer, Mrs. Holloway’s Happy Daze club. They would take her in for the night, she was sure. She was almost there, and was rounding a corner when the dark, backlight shape of a man stepped in front of her.

“Going somewhere?” Mr. Ling’s slimy voice emanated from the shape, freezing the blood in Zoe’s veins. 

“What do you want?” Zoe asked, her voice catching in her throat. 

“I want to know why you went to the police station,” he said, stepping closer. 

“How do you know that?” Her heart pounded in her chest as fear swept its cold, dark hands over her. She gripped her purse against her for something to hang on to, and remembered the gun. Could she get it out in time to use it?

“I followed you, of course. You should have let them take you home instead of dropping you at the tram stop. Or were you hoping they’d lock you up to protect you from me? Of course, it was so thoughtful of Detective Spencer to drag you back to the laneways. Parliament is far too well-lit and wide open for my liking.”

“Look, just leave me alone. I don’t want any more trouble.” Her voice shook with fear and anger, then it struck her what Mr. Ling had said: the man who had taken her from the tram stop had been Eddie’s father, and a cold realization came over her. Through his father, Eddie had been informing the police of Mr. Ling’s movements and network, and Mr. Ling had found out. Her hand slid slowly into her bag, closing around the gun.

“I don’t want any more trouble, either, Zoe,” Mr. Ling said. “That’s why I had to talk to you tonight.”

“I don’t want to talk.” She pulled the gun out and aimed it at him. “Let me go, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” His voice was calm, almost soothing, and he wasn’t the least bit concerned about the gun. “Now that you’ve spoken to the police - certainly about the death of Eddie Spencer and my involvement - you’ve become a liability. And you know how I deal with liabilities.” He let out a low whistle, and two men dressed all in black emerged from the shadows. In a flash, one grabbed her wrist and dug a finger into her shoulder. She lost all feeling in her right arm and the gun clattered to the pavement. The other man twisted her other arm behind her and jammed a knuckle into her lower back. The pain made her gasp and squirm, but Ling’s men held her tightly. 

“Well, well,” Ling said as he came to stand right in front of her. “You have been quite the thorn in my side this week, Miss Zoe, and I’m about ready to pluck that thorn out.”

“Please, Mr. Ling,” she begged. “If you let me go, I promise I will disappear from Melbourne and never be a thorn in your side again.”

“I had hoped what happened to Eddie would have been a strong enough message not to cross me,” he said, ignoring her pleas. “Apparently, it was not.” He reached up and pressed his finger against the back of her jaw again, as he’d done at the club earlier in the night, but much more forcefully this time. She squirmed and gasped against the assault, and hot tears streaked down her face. 

“You betrayed me,” he hissed in her ear, his hot breath making her skin crawl. “You were clever enough to get away from Detective Spencer, even steal his gun,” Ling said, using his foot to slide the firearm away from her feet. “But you won’t get away from me, and Detective Spencer will cop the blame.” He released his hold on her jaw but before she could scream, one of the thugs covered her mouth with a gloved hand. 

Mr. Ling put on a pair of gloves himself, picked up the revolver and checked the bullets. Then he looked back up at her and sneered. “Let’s go for a walk.” The thugs drug her along, back down the laneway, and in her head, she cried out to God for mercy, sensing her luck had run out. Childhood memories of happier days crossed through her mind, until they came to a narrow passage between two buildings. 

“Here,” Ling said. The thugs drug her into the passageway, and one of them grabbed her leg and pressed on the inside of her thigh. She crumpled to the ground with a scream. 

“You were a good seller, Zoe,” Ling said. “Until you weren’t. And liabilities are eliminated.” 

“I’m sorry Eddie,” she whispered through her tears. Ling was holding the gun to the back of her head, but she was already drifting away as he cocked the hammer. The last thing her mind registered was an image of Eddie smiling, holding out his hand and beckoning to her. She reached for him and everything went black.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Rated **E**  
> Let's start this chapter with some Phrack Smut (because, don't lie to me, that's what you've been dying for since this story started!).   
> Oh, but then there's a very somber trip to the morgue, and our two power couples are together in the same room at last.   
> ++++

The sky was pink with sunrise when Jack awoke. He rubbed his eyes and indulged in a glorious full-body stretch and a yawn to match before turning to Phryne’s sleeping form. They’d grown accustomed to sleeping together over the wonderful months since that first night in the desert, and she seemed to sense when he would stir and would snuggle herself into his embrace before dozing off again. This morning, however, she moaned uncomfortably and rubbed her temples. 

“How’s the head,” he whispered. She’d had too much to drink at the charity function the night before, which she’d teasingly blamed on him for not being there to make it more interesting. 

“Not bad, but not good,” she winced as she turned toward him. 

“Want a headache powder?” he asked and she mumbled a yes. He moved carefully out of bed and went to a table by her desk where he’d had Mr. Butler leave a pitcher of water and a few packets of powders the night before. He sat on her side of the bed to hand her the small paper packet and she downed it’s contents quickly and chased it with the water. 

“Drink the rest,” he instructed when she handed the half-full glass back to him, and she complied. He returned the glass to the table and carefully slid back in beside her, careful not to make any jarring movements. 

“What time do you have to go in,” she whispered quietly.

“I don’t have to go in until ten, since I stayed late last night.” He’d told her this last night, but with the heavy buzz of alcohol, she hadn’t remembered. “Just go back to sleep, my love,” he soothed. 

“No, I have to pee.” He had also become accustomed to her less than formal speech when they were alone, and the hangover had reduced her to one-syllable words. At this point “use the bathroom” was not in her lexicon until her head had cleared. He watched her teeter slightly as she made her way to the loo, and in a few minutes she was back, less wobbly, but her eyes still squinted. She crawled under the covers and buried her head in his chest to block the light. 

He snuggled down with her, holding her gently and rubbing her back until her breathing evened out and her body fully relaxed. He had thought about spending his free morning catching up on some reading, but his eyelids were suddenly heavy and he dozed off again. 

Jack was awakened later by the blissful sensation of Phryne rubbing his sleep-hardened cock. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it, and there had been a few mornings when he’d gently roused her with a hand between her thighs as well. 

“Mmm,” he grunted as he curled his pelvis into her hand and pulled her close. “I take it your head’s feeling better?”

“Almost one hundred percent,” she said, scraping her nails lightly over his pajama-covered erection. “I think a brief adrenaline rush would clear things up completely.”

“Always works for me, hangover or not,” he quipped. 

“And since I was too drunk to be of any good last night, you get to go first this morning,” she declared, rising to her knees and tugging at his pajamas. He allowed her to pull them off and made room for her between his legs. 

“You sound so determined, Miss Fisher,” he said. “Who am I to get in your way?” She gave him a sly grin as she stroked him in earnest, kissing her way down his body and sending sparks shooting along his nerve endings. He slid his fingers into her hair and moaned as her warm lips connected, and he forced his eyes open to watch her ply her magic. 

Hands, lips, tongue, teeth, all working in harmony to make him delirious and soon he had to throw his head back and close his eyes. She took him fully into her mouth, her hands stroking up and down his body as she sucked him and he fought the urge to thrust for as long as he could. 

She pulled back for a moment, catching her breath and resting her jaw, but her hand still played his cock like a flute. He glanced down at her and she gave him that sly smile again before she descended on him once more, so quickly he gasped and thrust involuntarily. That one thrust broke his resolve and he couldn’t stop. Phryne held still as he pulsed into her mouth, and when the wave started to crash and his body tensed, she held on with her lips and sucked every last drop out of him until he lay panting, sweating and spent. 

Phryne lay back down next to him with a self-satisfied smile, obviously pleased with her handiwork. He was rather pleased with it himself, reveling in the loose and languid feeling in his body. After a few moments, he got up to use the bathroom and when he came back, she had shucked off her pajamas and was waiting for him, propped up slightly on the pillows, her arms draped lazily above her head. She looked just like the painting she’d posed for that was hanging on the wall across the room, although this morning she was wearing a cheeky smile. 

+++

“Ready for breakfast, Jack?” she said. 

“Starving,” he replied. He knelt over her on the bed and kissed her briefly, then moved his mouth to her neck and a hand to her hip. His lips sparked fires along her skin and his hand caressed her side and stomach until his lips and hand met on her breast and she caught her breath. Jack’s mouth did things to her; whether he was devouring her nipple or interviewing a suspect, his mouth was gorgeous and talented and turned her insides to mush. 

He moved over her, his knees on the outsides of her hips, and cupped both breasts with his hands, kissing her nipples in turn. She tucked her fingers into his thick, bed-rumpled hair and held on as he took his time, sucking, licking, and nibbling, every scrape of his teeth sending bolts of electricity to her core. 

Finally, he moved lower, kissing his way down her body toward her throbbing cunt, his hands stroking her legs and his morning stubble tickling her skin. She spread her thighs open for him and his fingers swept ever closer to her damp and yearning need. She was panting and straining beneath him, wanting him desperately, and knowing that his mouth would soon be on her intensified her desperation. 

“Excuse me, Miss?”

Mr. Butler’s gentle knock and apologetic voice stopped Jack in his tracks and he looked up at her.

“Yes, Mr. Butler?” she called through gritted teeth. 

“If the Inspector is awake, there’s a phone call for him. Another murder, it appears.”

“I’ll be right down, Mr. Butler,” Jack called, quickly extracting himself from between Phryne’s thighs and donning his robe. “I’ll be right back,” he said, slipping out of the bedroom, and Phryne fell back against the pillows and groaned. 

+++

“I hate to speak ill of the dead, especially since she’s a Jane Doe, but she really has terrible timing,” Phryne grumbled as she and Jack drove to the morgue. “Damned inconsiderate, too.” 

“Should I drop you back home so you can take care of things?” Jack smirked at her around a bite of scone. Mr. Butler had sent them on their way with a full tin and a thermos of tea as they dashed out the door a mere thirty minutes after the phone call. 

“No thank you, I’m fine.” She tried to hide her frustration, but chomped her scone with a humph. 

“Good. So am I.” 

“Wipe that cocky smile off your face, Jack Robinson, or I’ll splash this thermos of hot tea in a very uncomfortable place.”

“Just don’t get any on the upholstery; it is a police vehicle after all.” When he glanced over at her, the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ came to mind. He really did feel bad for her. He’d learned quickly about her hearty appetite in the bedroom and always made sure she was completely satisfied. They’d been interrupted before, but it was usually he who was on the losing end, so he fully understood her current state of discontent. His teasing probably wasn’t helping matters, but their banter allowed her to let off a little steam before they had to be professionals at the morgue.

“So tell me, Jack,” she began, her voice pitching up and her attitude taking a turn. “What were you planning to do to me this morning?” 

Uh-oh. This sounded like a trap. 

“I’m sure you know quite well what I was about to do to you, before we were so rudely interrupted.”

“Well, yes, the general theme is obvious.” Her voice had turned clinical, as if she were discussing a case, and the momentum of their conversation began to shift, and not in Jack’s favor. “But, be specific, if you please.”

“Phryne, not now,” he said, glaring at her sideways as he turned a corner a few blocks from the morgue. 

She continued undeterred. “Were you going to make your tongue big and flat? Or hard and pointed?” The mere suggestion spilled delicious memories into the forefront of his mind and his groin twitched. He would have to improve his game. 

“If you can avoid discussing it in public, and especially at the morgue, then I’ll take you home for lunch and show you,” he said, as he pulled into the car lot behind the hospital. “Agreed?”

“I’ll do my best until lunch, but if we happen to get delayed by the case, then I can’t be held responsible.”

It was going to be an interesting day.

+++

Phryne loved to watch Jack squirm under his three-piece, tailored wool armor. She loved their witty, even salacious, banter, which had only become more sexual now that they were finally, officially, a couple. And she took every opportunity to remind him of that side of their partnership with a well-timed innuendo or inside joke, especially in public places, like the police station, or in front of Aunt Prudence. Hence the squirming, although he was getting much better at hiding it and returning fire. 

She was disappointed with not having her turn that morning, but it wasn’t the first time in her life she’d been hung out to dry, and now that there was another murder, her energies were refocused and she could wait. But it was much more fun to tease Jack about it. 

When they entered the morgue, Mac was there with a sad and grim expression on her face, and Phryne forgot all about her own unmet needs. 

“What have we got, Doctor,” Jack asked as they approached the table. Mac pulled back the sheet and the color drained from Jack’s face. 

“Damnit.” He shook his head and swallowed hard. 

“What is it, Jack?” Phryne asked, touching his arm. Jack’s deep well of compassion was a familiar undercurrent in the morgue; death was never trivial to him. Yet Phryne had never seen him react so strongly.

“It’s Emily Farnsworth,” he said quietly. “Also known as Zoe.”

“Oh, no,” Phryne said. “How did you know?”

“She came by the station last night to talk about Eddie Spencer’s murder and pointed the finger at Christopher Ling. She wanted me to lock her up overnight for selling drugs, and to protect her from Ling. But she didn’t have any drugs on her and I couldn’t hold her for the murder either.”

“Oh, Jack.” Phryne moved closer, placing a comforting hand on his back. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, the weight of guilt evident on his face.

“I have a bottle of Jameson’s in the back if you need a medicinal, Inspector,” Mac offered quietly. 

“Uh, no, thank you, Doctor,” Jack said. “I’ll be fine.” He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, shrugging off his emotions. “Cause of death?”

“Gunshot at close range to the back of the head,” Mac said quietly, looking down.

“An execution,” Phryne breathed. She glanced at Jack whose jaw clenched and eyes darkened, but otherwise maintained his stoic demeanor. 

“There are also some splinters of wood with green paint embedded in her cheek,” Mac continued with her report in a careful manner. “I’m not sure how that got there, as there was no green-painted wood anywhere near where she was found. Her knees were slightly bruised, as if she’d landed on them. Other than that, not much else.”

“Time of death?” Jack asked.

“Between nine and eleven last night.”

“Constable Gruber drove her to the Parliament House tram stop, at her request. They left about nine-forty-five,” Jack said and Mac nodded. 

“But this is the main reason why I insisted you be called in,” Mac said. She turned to take a box off the counter behind her and handed it to Jack. “She was found face down and this was resting on her back.” 

“It’s a Colt,” Phryne said, peering over his shoulder. “A .38 Special, I believe. Not a Victoria Police issued Webley.”

“It’s Jim Spencer’s,” Jack gulped. “See the engraved initials on the side? And I recognize the carved handle.” He set the box down next to Zoe’s head and turned away from the body. “Damn,” he cursed again and rubbed his face. 

Phryne went to him, stood close, one hand around his back the other holding his bicep. “It’s not your fault, Jack,” she whispered. Mac held a shot of whiskey in front of him and he threw it back without hesitation.

“I offered her a night in a safe house, but she turned it down. Said she just wanted to go home.” He looked down into the empty glass, then closed his eyes and sighed heavily. 

“You did everything you could,” Phryne soothed. Jack just shook his head.

“But it wasn’t enough.” 

There wasn’t much more Phryne could say that wouldn’t sound like a platitude or a cliche, so she just stood there silently with her arm around him, waiting. After a few minutes he took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, then kissed Phryne on the forehead before turning back to Zoe. 

“Doctor, did you notice any of the same bruising we saw on Eddie Spencer? The pressure points?” 

“Let’s see,” Mac said, examining the areas more closely. “Looks like something coming up on the right brachial plexus,” she commented, then moved to Zoe’s thighs. “Yep, another bruise forming over the femoral nerve here.” Bruises were also rising to the surface on Zoe’s left mastoid process, and, when they’d rolled her halfway over, near her kidney on her lower back. 

“Ling did this,” Jack said. 

“Jim Spencer’s gun was found with the body,” Phryne said. She had turned her attention to Zoe’s belongings. 

“Planted,” Jack asserted. “Jim wouldn’t leave his gun behind.”

“Then how did Ling get a hold of the gun?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring Jim in,” he said. 

“Well, this is interesting,” Phryne said, holding up a silver dagger with a mother-of-pearl handle.

“Found tucked in the top of her stocking,” Mac said with a sad smile. 

“A kindred spirit,” Phryne mused. “Whatever happened, it happened fast and she was unable to defend herself.” It was Phryne’s turn to shake her head at the tragedy of Zoe’s death. 

“I don’t even know if she had any next of kin,” Jack said. “She mentioned that Eddie had called her at the club the night he died, and told the doorman he was her brother and that her mother was sick. But if he lied about being a brother, he may also have been lying about there being a mother.”

“I know who would know,” Phryne said. “Venus DeRosier.”

+++

“Have you ever been to the morgue, Henry?” Venus asked him as Frenchy drove them over. She had never been and was not looking forward to it.

“Just once; it was a most unpleasant experience.” Henry didn’t elaborate, but he did hold her a little closer in the back seat. When Inspector Robinson had called to say they had found Zoe and needed Venus to confirm her identity, she’d held it together long enough to say a proper goodbye before dashing into the bathroom to be sick. Henry had held her while she’d cried and cursed herself for not making room for Zoe at the club the night before, doing his best to assuage her feelings of guilt. 

They hadn’t spoken much as they got ready to go, and Venus steeled her heart for what she would encounter. She’d known madams who’d lost girls - it was not an easy life and some girls made worse choices than others - but in the seven years she’d been a madam, she’d never lost anyone, until today. A grim milestone she was hoping she’d never reach. 

“Thank you for coming.” Inspector Robinson greeted them somberly in the vestibule, with Miss Fisher by his side. 

“Of course, Inspector.” Venus nodded and wrinkled her nose at the strong aromas. Miss Fisher offered her a bit of eucalyptus salve for under her nose to mask the smell and she gratefully accepted.

“Right this way.” Inspector Robinson led them through to the exam room and the sight of the sheet-covered body made Venus’ stomach lurch. She leaned into Henry who held her snugly around the waist and whispered calming words into her ear. She sniffed back her aversion to the task, squared her shoulders and approached the table. 

“Hello, Dr. MacMillan,” Venus said.

“I’m sorry we have to meet again under such sad circumstances.”

“Indeed,” Venus replied, and the doctor gently pulled back the sheet to reveal the head and shoulders of the young woman on the table. Venus’ stomach lurched again and she touched the girl’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Zoe,” she whispered, her throat suddenly tight and her mouth dry, a pair of tears spilling onto her cheeks. Henry’s comforting presence was close behind her, silent and strong, as she found Zoe’s hand to hold and stroked her cool, pale face. 

She hadn’t been close to Zoe; she’d barely known her for more than a few weeks, and the girl had been a challenge from the start. But Zoe had reminded Venus of herself at that age - unpredictable, headstrong, and needing a firm hand to guide her, but full of potential and spirit. In addition to the grief from her own guilt, Venus would grieve that loss of potential just as much. 

She turned toward Inspector Robinson and Miss Fisher, who were hanging back respectfully. “Yes, Inspector, this is Zoe. Her real name is Emily Farnsworth, originally from Geelong.” She reached in her bag and took out Zoe’s employment papers and handed them to him. 

“Next of kin?” he asked.

“She has an aunt, Mary Langford, who lives in Windsor Street in Footscray.”

“I thought she went to visit her sick mother last Saturday night,” Miss Fisher said. 

“It was a ruse. Zoe was orphaned at the age of eight and taken in by family. One of the girls she was close to who lives upstairs at the club told me about her parents and her Aunt Mary.” 

“We’ll contact her as soon as possible, thank you,” Inspector Robinson said. 

“What happened, Inspector?” she asked.

“Let’s step outside,” he suggested and they all filed out of the exam room and out onto the breezeway where Venus took several deep breaths of fresh air. 

“She was found early this morning in a narrow passageway off Lonsdale Street in Chinatown. She had been shot in the back of the head.” The Inspector’s voice was calm and sympathetic, but his words were no less jarring. 

“How awful,” Venus replied.

“Any idea who did it?” Henry asked.

“Nothing solid at this time, but we have a few leads,” the Inspector offered. “I’d like to get a statement from you, Madam DeRosier, down at the station.”

“Of course, Inspector.”

“We’ll follow you there,” Henry offered. 

+++

Phryne hadn’t expected the four of them to ever be in the same room together, much less due to the death of one of Madam Venus’ employees, but here they all were in Jack’s office as he walked Venus through her statement, taking the notes himself. 

Several weeks ago, she’d teased Jack with the idea that Henry Stokes and Madam DeRosier were the criminal version of themselves and he’d scoffed at the notion. However, sitting next to Jack behind his desk, across from the well-dressed, well-matched couple, it was difficult to imagine them as criminals. Their deeply affected demeanor over the death of Zoe infused them with humanity, and Henry’s way of supporting Venus in her time of distress was tender and charming. Phryne filed the images away for reference, but didn’t allow her wariness and general distrust of the criminal element to be compromised. 

“So I escorted Mr. Ling to the door,” Venus was saying as she finished up her statement. “And as he was walking out he said I didn’t have to revoke his membership, that he was never coming back to my bloody club and that he’d destroy it just like -” she stopped short and looked down. 

“Just like what?” Jack asked. 

“Just like that copper destroyed the Black Dahlia, he said.” Anger flared in Venus’ eyes when she looked back up. “The Black Dahlia was my club in Sydney that burned down a few months ago.”

“I’m aware of the story,” Jack said gently. “There’s no need to detail it for this.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Venus said. “The fact that he knew what had happened and threatened to do the same simply for enforcing a policy that protects my girls, infuriated me. I may have shut the door a little too forcefully after he left.”

“So you’re not expecting him to return this evening to discuss his membership, as you requested?”

“I hope not, but if he does, Henry and I will be ready for him.”

“I’ll have a few of my men there tonight, just in case,” Henry said.

Jack nodded and tapped his pencil point on his notebook as he thought for a moment. “Mr. Stokes, do you happen to know where Ling’s warehouse is?” 

“Now that’s valuable information, isn’t it, Inspector.” The change in Stokes’ expression was subtle, but significant. One moment he was concerned only for Venus, the next he was in full negotiation mode with only a slight uptick of his mouth and a hardening of his gaze. If Jack had been expecting to catch him off guard, it didn’t work.

“How valuable?”

“What are you prepared to offer?”

“There is the little matter of the Hardy Brothers Jewelry heist,” Jack said. 

Stokes lifted his chin slightly; Jack had definitely plucked a nerve. “You can’t make me wear that,” he said. “You have no hard evidence.”

“Not at this time, but the case is getting stronger.”

Henry held Jack’s gaze for a moment before relenting. “Frankly Inspector, I wish I did know the location of Ling’s warehouse, and not just to use as a bargaining chip.”

“Why is that?”

“So I can send him flowers on his birthday,” Stokes replied with a smirk and Jack allowed a frustrated huff to escape as he sat back in his chair. Phryne almost laughed. Jack couldn’t help it, really: he had Melbourne’s Most Wanted sitting in his office so it was natural he would slip into interrogation mode. 

“Madam DeRosier,” Phryne redirected the conversation to diffuse the Jack-Henry stalemate. “Are any of your other employees working for Mr. Ling? Do you know?”

“If there are, I don’t know about them. And once word goes around about Zoe, they’ll be even more secretive.”

“Is it true you have a strict no drugs policy at Club Phoenix?”

“I do. It tends to attract the wrong element, like Mr. Ling.”

“What if you had a change of heart about that policy?” Phryne asked. “To specifically attract Mr. Ling back to your club?”

“What are you getting at, Miss Fisher?” Venus gave her a quizzical look. 

“Yes, I’d like to know what you’re getting at, as well,” Jack said, turning toward her.

“Likewise,” Henry added. 

Their rapt attention infused Phryne with confidence and a sense of power and she sat up a little taller to spin her idea. “We believe Mr. Ling killed both Eddie and Zoe, but the evidence we have right now is circumstantial. We can place Mr. Ling in the laneway with Eddie on Saturday night, but we don’t have the murder weapon. We have a weapon from Zoe’s murder last night, but we can’t place Ling at the scene. We do know he had motive to kill both. Inspector Robinson would like to lock him up for murder, and the Vice Unit would like to lock him up for drugs, so maybe there’s a way to kill two birds with one stone, as it were.”

“Are you suggesting a set-up of some sort?” Jack asked. 

“Yes, if Madam DeRosier is willing to let us use Club Phoenix to stage it.”

Venus looked at Henry, who nodded slightly, then she looked back at Phryne, determination glinting in her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are always appreciated!!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A common adversary can make for interesting partnerships.   
> +++++

“Do you have a way to contact Mr. Ling?” Phryne asked. The first piece of the puzzle was to be sure the suspect was in the trap before springing it. 

“On his membership form there’s a phone number to a restaurant in Chinatown, but they only take messages for him,” Venus said. 

“Then be sure he gets the message that you are interested in a business deal and want to meet with him tonight.” Phryne said. 

“What time?” 

“Let’s say eight o’clock. Now, -” Phryne was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Jack called. 

“Sir, the toxicology report you were waiting for just came in, and so has the interviewee you had me call earlier.” Hugh stepped into the office to hand Jack the folder. It was Eddie Spencer’s autopsy, and Detective Spencer who had arrived, and Jack was glad of Hugh’s discrecion in front of Stokes and Madam DeRosier, especially considering Stokes’ stated desire for revenge on the Vice Detective.

“Tell our guest to wait in the interview room. I’ll be with him shortly.” Hugh nodded and ducked out. “I’m going to have to take that interview now,” Jack said. 

“Why don’t we do the planning at Club Phoenix after lunch,” Venus suggested. “That way you can see how everything is laid out. Say two o’clock?”

“That will work,” Jack nodded. Henry and Venus got up to leave, and Phryne commandeered Jack’s phone to call Dot. 

“Inspector, can you point me in the direction of the gents?” Henry asked when the three of them were out in the hall. 

“Constable,” Jack grabbed a passing rookie. “Escort Mr. Stokes to the gents and back.” When Henry raised an eyebrow at him, Jack clarified. “Standard procedure for all non-police visitors.” Henry gave him a smirk, but followed the constable down the hall. 

“Thank you for your kindness, Inspector,” Venus said to Jack when they were alone in the hallway. “I wasn’t expecting it.” Her eyes were soft and her voice quiet, and Jack suspected it wasn’t often she had sympathetic interactions with the police. 

“Zoe deserved better,” Jack said. “She was trapped in a difficult situation and there wasn’t much I could do.”

“What do you mean?” Venus took a half step closer, her expression turning curious. 

“Zoe came in to the station last night around nine o’clock to talk about Eddie’s death and Christopher Ling’s involvement,” Jack explained. He hadn’t told Venus and Henry about Zoe’s visit from the night before because it wasn’t relevant to Venus’ identifying the body or giving her statement, but he saw no harm in revealing it now. “She was afraid of Ling and wanted me to lock her up overnight for selling drugs, but she didn’t have any on her. I couldn’t legally hold her, but I offered her a safe house for the night. She declined.”

“So we share the same guilt,” Venus said, returning the sympathy. 

“How so?”

“I was going to move Zoe into one of the rooms upstairs in the club, but not until tonight.” She sighed sadly. “I wish I hadn’t waited. I’d never lost an employee until now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jack said. Somehow it seemed she had moved even closer, although he couldn’t have pinpointed when. Close enough that a whiff of her perfume caught his nose and it was dangerously the same as Phryne’s. He slid his hands in his pockets, as if that would somehow protect him from what he feared, namely an unwanted physical response to the attractive lady in front of him.

“We do what we can, Inspector,” Venus was saying. “In the end, each of us has to make our own decisions.”

“Very true.” Jack nodded. 

“Thank you again,” Venus said, moving another half step closer and placing a hand on his arm. It was a purely innocent gesture, an understanding between two human beings, but Jack was suddenly aware of the full effect of Madam Venus. Her turquoise eyes favored him with appreciation, and the warmth of her hand penetrated his suit to his skin. 

“It’s all part of the job,” he declared, clearing his throat. 

“Mr. Butler will have lunch ready in an hour, and - oh!” Phryne appeared in the hallway from one side and Henry rounded the corner from the other side at the same moment. Venus pulled her hand away from Jack’s arm and they both glanced down as if they’d been caught stealing biscuits.

“Ready to go, darling?” Venus turned quickly toward Henry with a fetching smile and tucked her hand in his elbow. 

“Yes, I’d like to spend as little time in a police station as possible,” Henry remarked with a territorial sneer at Jack. 

“I’ll walk you out,” Jack said, gesturing toward the front lobby. At the door, he thanked them for coming in, and when he turned around, Phryne was leaning against the door frame of his office, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. 

“Was Venus able to pluck Adonis from his horse?” she asked when he’d made his way back to her side.

“Never fear, Miss Fisher,” he guided her by the elbow back into his office and shut the door. “He red for shame, but frosty in desire,” he quoted from the same poem she referenced. “Though I do appreciate the compliment.” The corner of his mouth quirked up as they stood toe-to-toe.

“I’d much rather pluck you from your horse myself,” she said, taking his tie in her fingers and tugging gently. 

“Hate to disappoint you, but I have a wild boar to hunt.” He shot her a smirk then turned and plucked a couple files off his desk, along with his notebook and the gun found with Zoe.

“Pardon me?”

“I have to interview Jim Spencer. Are you coming?”

She rested her hands elegantly on her hips and fixed him with a saucy pout. “I would love to come, but we agreed we wouldn’t do that at the station.” 

“Patience, Miss Fisher,” he reminded her with a little smile and left the office. He heard her huff in frustration before following him to the interview room. 

“Jim, thank you for waiting,” Jack said as he entered the interview room with Phryne in tow. “You remember Miss Fisher.”

“From the charity event a few weeks back,” he nodded. 

“How is Sarah holding up?” Phryne asked gently.

“A bit better now that Eddie is at the undertaker’s. Thank you, Jack, for speeding the process along.” Jack nodded and Jim continued. “That’s where we were this morning, otherwise I would have come in earlier.”

“Well, we’ve been a little busy here ourselves this morning,” Jack explained. “There’s been another murder, this time a young woman named Emily Farnsworth, also known as Zoe.” Jack watched Jim’s face closely as he delivered the news. 

“Did you say Zoe?” Jim asked, nervously. “The girl Eddie used to go dancing with?”

“I’m afraid it was slightly more illegal than dancing,” Jack said. “But I think you knew that.”

Jim stared back and forth between Jack and Phryne then hung his head. “It’s true. I knew he was buying drugs from her, and I knew she was a prostitute so I guessed the rest.” He paused and looked back and forth between Jack and Phryne. “She’s dead? How?”

“You tell me,” Jack said grimly. He took Jim’s gun out of his pocket and laid it on the table between them. “This was found with her body.”

Jim pushed back in his chair at the sight of the gun, as if repelled by an unseen force. “I didn’t kill her, I swear!” Jim exclaimed. The horror on his face and anguish in his voice was almost enough to convince Jack he was telling the truth.

“Then why don’t you tell me what happened last night,” Jack suggested calmly. 

“I went looking for Zoe last night, it’s true,” Jim said, resignation deflating his defensiveness. “I wanted to find out more about Eddie, and one of my regular fizz-gigs saw them together the night he died.”

“Would that have been Teddy ‘Talkie’ Trabant?” Jack asked.

“Yes, that’s him. He told me that she always takes the ten o’clock tram from Parliament House, so I went ‘round there and waited. When that constable dropped her off, I knew she’d been to the police station and I was worried Christopher Ling might get to her before the night was over. I was going to offer her a ride home after we’d talked.”

“How would Ling know she’d been to the police?”

“That’s the unspoken reason for the task force,” Jim explained. “To find out who on the police force is feeding information to Ling and others from inside. It’s one thing to have cops taking a bit of money here and there to look the other way on the street, but it’s a different story altogether when there are cops on the inside deliberately feeding confidential information to criminals like Ling.”

“Indeed.” Jack wished he was surprised, but he knew better. It was more surprising that something was actually being done about it. That angle would keep for now, however, so he redirected Spencer back to Zoe. “So you approached Zoe at the tram stop?”

“I did. I showed her that I had my gun with me and that we should take a little walk. I led her into a laneway off Little Bourke Street. I could tell she was trying to get away from me, so I was probably a little bit forceful with her.”

“How forceful?” Phryne asked, narrowing her eyes at Jim. Jack could always count on her to remind a witness of any breaches in proper treatment of women, even if the woman was a petty criminal. 

“I may have held her against a doorway to keep her from scarpering.” Jim at least had the good sense to seem remorseful.

“Would you say you shoved her face into the door?” Phryne continued. “While holding the gun to her back?” The sharp disdain in her tone was palpable in the room.

“She had information about Eddie, I couldn’t risk letting her go,” Jim replied, his voice rising in his own defense. Phryne sat back with a smug look, her questions exposing Jim’s intentions and actions were enough for now.

“Did you get the information that you needed?” Jack asked. 

“She told me that Christopher Ling had killed Eddie, but I didn’t believe her at first. She said that Ling had told her Eddie was a liability so he had to be eliminated. I had been concerned that Eddie had somehow been compromised by Ling, but I couldn’t prove it. So I had been trying to find out myself.”

“What do you mean ‘Eddie had been compromised’?” Phryne asked.

“Eddie was a recent addition to the drug task force,” Jack explained, showing her Eddie’s initials in the folder. “As an informant. Since he had been a user, he was familiar with the streets and the people. But he couldn’t resist the temptation to use cocaine again, could he,” Jack said to Jim.

“No, but he’d been free of it for a few months when he started back up. I had been complaining one night at dinner about how difficult it had been to break into the rings and get solid information. So after dinner Eddie took me aside and offered to be an informant. We talked about it for a few hours, over several fingers of whiskey, and the next morning we went to Deputy Commissioner Maxwell with our proposal. There’s nothing in the rule book that says an informant has to be a street criminal - they can be from any walk of life. Maxwell agreed to let Eddie participate, reporting directly to me. After a couple weeks, he came home in a state, and I knew he’d started using again. We argued about that, but he said that if he didn’t use, his dealer would become suspicious, and he was committed to the job of breaking up the rings.”

“And Zoe was his dealer.”

“Yes. I’d never met her and only knew her by her street name. Eddie insisted on keeping her and I from meeting, and I understood. It was better if I didn’t know her - she was Eddie’s fizz, not mine. But when he died, I knew I needed to talk to her. It took me two days to track her down. And when Maxwell told me to stand down from the investigation into Eddie’s death, it was that much harder because I couldn’t use police resources.”

“So you interfered in an active investigation,” Jack clarified.

“No, it was for my own purposes. I just wanted to know how Eddie died, who was with him, and why.”

“Did you get the answers you needed from Zoe?”

“She said she went to get help and when she came back Eddie was dead. She left him there and he died alone.” Jim’s voice caught in his throat and he pinched the bridge of his nose to fight back his emotions. Jack noted that Zoe’s story to Jim about Eddie’s death was different from what she’d told him the night before, but it mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

“I was so angry, I called her some terrible names,” Jim continued. “She tried to calm me down by offering her services, which was the last thing I wanted. And that’s when she grabbed me in the -” Jim stopped short and looked at Phryne, then back at Jack, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“In the what, Jim,” Jack prodded.

“In the crotch,” Jim said, looking at Jack, his eyes glinting angrily now. “Hard. My gun went off and I fell backwards. She grabbed the gun and ran.” He looked down and shook his head. “I knew I’d bungled it, so I just hobbled back to my car and went home. When Collins called me this morning to say you wanted to talk to me, it was a relief.”

“And you have no idea what became of Zoe after she ran off,” Jack said.

“No, she disappeared down the laneway and around a corner. I knew I’d never be able to catch her, I just wish I hadn’t dropped my gun.”

“Your gun was the reason we were able to identify her. The coroner called me in because of it. She had no other identifying information on her person.”

“Did, um,” Jim began. “Did she use it on herself?”

“No. She came across someone else in the laneways who was able to get the gun away from her. She was shot in the back of the head, so she couldn’t have done it herself.”

“God, I’m such a cockup.” Jim buried his face in his hands for a moment. “That poor girl. It’s all my fault. If I had just been patient and let you do the investigating, Jack, I would have gotten my answers soon enough.”

“You were let go from the task force about two weeks ago,” Jack said, changing the subject again. “Why?”

“The Deputy Commissioner said it was because I was a sloppy investigator, but I hadn’t done anything improper and all my evidence and paperwork was up to standard or better. I think there was another reason.”

“What would that be?”

“That I was getting close to figuring out who at Russell Street was in with Ling. That’s another reason why I brought Eddie in - I knew I could trust him because he was an outsider to both the street crime and to the Victoria Police. And he was getting somewhere.”

“What had he uncovered?”

“Eddie was dropping hints with Zoe that he knew would get back to Ling. Next thing I know, there’s a raid or an arrest or something related to that hint, most of which came through Assistant Commissioner Holdworth’s office.” 

“Holdsworth?” Jack said. One of half a dozen assistant commissioners who dealt mostly with administrative functions, Holdsworth oversaw the budget for the entire Victoria Police Force, and money was always a powerful motivator. 

“Yep, and most of that was just for show. Barely any drugs were seized in the raids, and the crims who were arrested were let go within a couple days. No one talks about it, but it’s all in the reports - I looked them up. Plenty of good press, though, which is all Commissioner Rogers cares about.”

Jack leaned forward, arms on the table, and spoke quietly. “Jim, does anyone else know about the Holdsworth connection?”

“I don’t think so, unless someone else saw the pattern and looked it up. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“Do you think Rogers is in on it?” 

“No, I don’t think so. He’s letting Maxwell run the whole thing. Frankly, if I were Rogers, I wouldn’t want to know everything the task force was doing, cuz I’ve seen some dodgy stuff done in service to maintaining law and order in our fair city. I’d keep my distance unless it was shouting the successes from the rooftops.”

“Jim, I want you to go home and not breathe a word of this conversation to anyone, understand?”

“Oh, of course, Jack. I’ve learned my lesson this time.”

They left the interview room and Jack enlisted a constable to walk Jim to his car, just in case. With ears and eyes everywhere, he couldn’t risk losing Jim Spencer to Ling’s ruthlessness. 

“Do you think if we flush out Ling tonight that we’ll be able to flush out this Holdsworth character?” Phryne asked once they were back in his office.

“I’ll appraise Detective Flynn and he can work with the task force to ferret out any other co-conspirators. I’ve participated in the arrest of one police commissioner in my career and that’s quite enough, thank you.”

Phryne gave him a disappointed look; she clearly tasted the thrill of the hunt, and a police commissioner, even a deputy or assistant, was tempting big game. After a moment, she relented with a sigh, which was followed by the soft chime of the clock on Jack’s bookshelf.

“Time for lunch,” she brightened. “Aren’t you still hungry from this morning, Jack?” Her voice turned sultry and her eyes flashed a heat Jack could never resist for long. 

He stepped close to her, holding the toxicology report between them. “If we can discuss this in the dining room first, then I’ll be more than happy to take dessert upstairs afterward.”

“You seem so determined, Inspector,” she said parroting his words from that morning. “Who am I to stand in your way.” They shared a smile and he kissed her briefly, tracing her lips with his tongue before pulling back.

“You’re such a tease,” she huffed prettily. 

“You like it,” he replied. “Now let’s hurry so we’re not late for our two o’clock appointment.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say "more Phrack smut"?? Okay, if you insist!  
> Jack and Henry use their resemblance to good advantage, and the team sets the trap for Mr. Ling, but can Jack resist all of Venus' charms?  
> +++

“Oh, god, Jack!” Phryne moaned and clawed the bedsheets as Jack satisfied his hunger with her plush flesh and flowing juices. He’d surprised her by insisting on a quick lunch and only a cursory glance at the report he’d brought home, further surprising her by allowing for more time in their bedroom. A midday romp was a scandalous delight, even for her, and for Jack to so enthusiastically arrange it was all the more thrilling. 

He slipped two fingers inside her and she gasped and clamped down around them, while his tongue continued to move rhythmically over her most sensitive spots. Heat vibrated in her core and colors swirled behind her eyelids. She arched her hips and her body tensed right before she exploded in a fiery ball of electricity and joy. 

She lay panting, sweat misting over her skin, while Jack wiped his face and hand on a damp flannel he’d placed on her nightstand earlier. Her man with a plan, and oh, how she loved him for it, and for a million other reasons. She scanned her eyes down the angles of his body, his erection clearly in view, and she reached for him. 

“More dessert, Jack?” she breathed as she stroked him.

“That was the intention,” he grinned as he laid down next to her. “Although I imagined it a little more like this.” He gripped her hips and pulled her on top of him, and she yelped with surprise and delight. 

“Mmm, I do love your imagination,” she replied as she rubbed her wet folds over his hardened cock. “But get ready for me to wipe that smug smile right off your face.” 

“I expect nothing less,” he said, sighing deeply as she slid herself down over him. Giving him pleasure, watching his face, hearing his deep, throaty moans, was an aphrodisiac she didn’t know she needed, but it worked every time. She moved over him with long strokes, squeezing him tightly as she lifted her hips, relaxing as she lowered them, pushing him deep inside her. When he could no longer stand the glorious tortue, she let him hold her hips in place while he thrust hard and fast until they both came undone with delirious enthusiasm. 

“We really should do this lunchtime thing more often,” she said a few minutes later when her breathing had returned to normal. 

“She would hang on him, as if increase in appetite had grown by what it fed on,” Jack quoted from Hamlet. It was shameful, really, how well he knew her, and that her appetite for him continued to grow the longer they were together. She would never apologize for it, so she supposed she could allow him that smug smile after all. 

She leaned across his body, twirled her fingers in his chest hair and gave him a sly grin. “And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

+++

“Henry, please, not now.” Venus pulled away from his embrace and the insistent kisses he was trailing down her neck. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Zoe just died, for goodness sake!” she declared. “Give me a little time to deal with it.”

“You seemed to be dealing with it just fine when you were cozying up to Inspector Robinson at the police station,” Henry retorted.

“I wasn’t ‘cozying up’ to him,” she shot back. “I was merely thanking him for his kindness and understanding.”

“You couldn’t do that without touching him?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, touching people is part of my job,” she replied. “What are you worried about?”

“Oh, come on, you don’t do that anymore,” he reasoned. “You have employees for that.” She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, not willing to allow him to dismiss her line of work simply because he was jealous. “Or *do* you still do that? Maybe I should spend every night here to make sure you don’t.”

“Henry Stokes, that doesn’t even deserve a response.” She turned away and went into the bedroom and shut the door. She crossed to the window and stared out, her eyes filling with tears, but no sobs came to her throat. The conversation had given her a strong feeling of deja vu, reminding her of Joey and the arguments they’d had. Joey hadn’t trusted her, and even though it was over a different subject, she had the same feeling that Henry didn’t trust her, and it was an invisible fist squeezing her heart. 

There was a gentle knock at the door. “Venus, may I come in? Please?” Henry’s voice, muffled through the door, was contrite and apologetic, and she hated being upset with him. 

She re-crossed the room and opened the door for him. They looked at each other for a moment, the tension palpable, then Henry stepped over the threshold. He shut the door behind him and stood close, his eyes soft and gray like the bay on a cloudy day. “I’m sorry.” He took her hands in his and exhaled heavily. “You’ve had a shock and you need my support, not accusations.”

She pulled him closer and slipped her arms around his waist. “Thank you.” She looked up into his eyes, awash in relief. “I love you, Henry. Nothing is going to change that; certainly not Inspector Robinson, no matter how much he looks like you.”

“That’s good to know,” he said.

“When we were in the hallway, he told me Zoe had been to the police station last night,” she explained, relating to Henry everything the Inspector had told her. “He offered to put Zoe in a safe house instead of the lockup, but she refused. He felt guilty about it, just like I feel guilty about not keeping her here last night. That was all we were talking about.” 

“That kind of guilt doesn’t go away easy,” Henry said, holding her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. “But it does, eventually.”

“Thank you, Henry,” she said, leaning into him and resting her cheek on his chest above his heart. The strong rhythm that reached her ear grounded her in the reality of his love and affection, and she hugged him tighter. 

++++

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Jack said to Phryne, mildly annoyed with his current situation. He was sitting on a stool in Madam DeRosier’s private parlor in his shirtsleeves, while a young woman he didn’t know attached strips of hair to his face in the shape of Henry Stokes’ beard. Henry, Phryne and her friend Raymond, the movie producer, looked on, each with a different reason for ensuring the accuracy of the disguise. 

“You wholeheartedly agreed to it, Jack,” Phryne replied. “You said it yourself that it would be better if Christopher Ling thought he had an advantage over Madam Venus. Making it look like Henry was being left in the lounge is part of the ruse.”

“Make sure he can do a good scowl without that thing coming off,” Henry said to the makeup girl, and Jack leveled a grumpy look at him that was half real, half acted, and all drama. “Perfect,” Henry said with a smirk. “I’ll be right back.” He walked out of the room and Jack huffed a sigh. 

“Hold still please, sir,” the girl said, attaching the last few bits of fake whiskers with what she’d said was a non-toxic glue, but Jack’s skin was already beginning to itch. A few moments later she’d completed that job and had moved on to the hair on his head, adding more pomade and restyling it to resemble Henry’s combed-back look. 

“Here you go,” Henry said, coming back into the parlor area from the bedroom, a suit of clothes on a hanger in his hand. “One of my best jackets so don’t spill anything on it. Woah,” he stopped short when he saw Jack. “That’s bloody spooky.”

“Indeed,” Phryne said, sauntering over and touching his face gently. Jack couldn’t quite read the look in her eyes, but for some reason it made him wary. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him to grow any facial hair in the future.

“Be careful, Miss,” the girl said as she packed up her things, and Phryne pulled her hand away. “It still needs a few minutes to set. Try not to play with it, sir,” she added, handing Jack a mirror. “It will last several hours, and the glue comes off with soap and water. You can use a little cold cream afterward if your skin feels irritated.”

“Thank you, I think,” Jack said. If he’d been startled by meeting Henry Stokes for the first time a few days ago, it was even more startling seeing the man staring back at him from the mirror, as well as from a few feet away.

“Fantastic job, Celeste,” Raymond said to the girl.

“Thank you for helping out on such short notice, Ray,” Phryne said. 

“It’s the least I can do,” Raymond replied. He helped Celeste with her coat and they left.

“Truly, Jack,” Phryne said, looking at him one more time. “The resemblance was uncanny before, but now it’s downright identical.” 

“Just don’t make me look like some damn goody-two-shoes, all right?” Henry joked, slapping Jack on the shoulder. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” 

“Heaven forbid you come across as an upstanding member of the community,” Jack quipped, earning a bark of laughter from the typically taciturn Henry Stokes. The gangster was having far too much fun with this. 

“Follow me and I’ll show you where you can change,” Henry said, and Jack followed him out the door and to a tiny, sparse bedroom off the kitchen. “Just a small spot where our night watchman can catch a kip after his shift,” he explained. 

“Is that all?” Jack asked, indicating a bowl full of condoms on the nightstand.

“They’re everywhere around here, Jack,” Henry explained. “Just another free service we offer to club members. Plus, they’re one hundred percent legal. I’m sure Venus wouldn’t mind if you helped yourself to a few.”

“Thanks, but, no need,” Jack stated. 

“I thought you and Miss Fisher were a couple,” Henry said.

“We are,” Jack asserted, confident in at least that one fact. Having this conversation with Henry, however, reminded him of a few he’d had with the mirror back in the days when he wasn’t so confident. “We have that aspect of things taken care of,” he added. 

“Grab a few anyway,” Henry winked. “Always good to have one handy. And let me know if you need help with the tie.” With that he shut the door and Jack was alone with a gangster’s clothes and a bowl of condoms. As strange as that sounded, it still wasn’t the most unusual situation he’d found himself in during the two years he’d known Phryne. He chuckled to himself, grabbed a few of the condoms and stuffed them deep into his pocket, then changed into Henry’s clothes. It was certainly going to be an interesting night. 

+++

“Don’t worry, Nell,” Venus said. “Henry will be hiding in the bedroom with a couple other cops in case anything goes wrong.”

“I’m not worried for my safety,” Nell asserted. “I’m just nervous about the undercover part of it. I don’t want to say the wrong thing to Ling. It’s my first big case.”

“You’ll do just fine,” Jack assured her. “The other officers will be here soon, and you’ve rehearsed everything, now all you have to do is let it play out.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nell nodded. “And it really is creepy how much you look like Mr. Stokes,” she added, looking back and forth between Henry and Jack.

“Just as long as you call me that until after the arrests are made,” Jack cautioned.

“Yes, Mr. Stokes,” she smiled. 

“Well, then Lola, and Henry,” Venus said, taking Jack’s arm. “I suppose we’d better take our places.”

“Chookas, everyone,” the real Henry said, dropping a kiss on Venus’ cheek before they left the room. It was all a bit surreal for Venus, leaving her fiance’ down in her suite, and ascending the wide stairs to the lounge with a man who was a dead ringer for him. It would be easy to play the flirty fiancee’ game with Inspector Robinson, but she was worried it might be too easy. 

++++

Everyone looked up at the same time when Madam Venus entered the lounge on the arm of her fiance’, Henry Stokes, and it was a second or two before Phryne remembered it was Jack. Henry had loaned Jack a black dinner jacket with a velvet collar and lapels, a brocade waistcoat in a deep claret, and a red and black tie. This might be the only time she’d ever see Jack in a combination like that, so she allowed her eyes to linger on him from across the room. She was serving drinks from a tray, playing a waitress for the evening, and accidentally sloshed a bit of martini on the gentleman she was placing it in front of. 

“If you need some help there, luv, I’m happy to steady you,” he leered at her.

“I can steady myself just fine, thanks,” she replied with her old Collingwood twang. “Enjoy your drink,” she added and walked away quickly. Jack and Venus were moving through the room, greeting members and chatting easily, but never staying in one spot longer than a brief moment. Phryne was impressed with how easily Jack had taken on Henry’s scowl and prowl, having received a bit of instruction from the man himself earlier. “Don’t move too quickly,” Henry had said. “Remember, you own half this place and are free to kick out anyone who causes trouble.” That wasn’t too far from the basic description of a police officer, so it made sense Jack would catch on quickly, she reasoned. 

Venus was making no effort at hiding her affection for her “fiance’”, keeping her hand tucked in his elbow as they moved between the tables, aiming for what was Venus’ preferred spot - a tall table with two stools next to an unlit fireplace in the back corner of the room. It was a perfect location to watch the crowd while at the same time blend in. Not that Venus blended in anywhere, and certainly not tonight. Her champagne-colored dress in a heavy satin shimmered in the low light, while the bias cut clung to all her curves. 

Phryne and Venus had specifically discussed wearing such a statement dress to both attract and intimidate Mr. Ling, but Phryne was not expecting how powerful a statement it would make once Venus was wearing it. She appeared carved from marble, like the goddess that shared her name, the deep front and back necklines of the dress leaving just as little to the imagination as any masterpiece in the Louvre, and Phryne thought it clever that both of their eponyms were memorialized in ancient Greek marble.

Phryne didn’t envy other women. She was comfortable with who she was and how she looked, and she appreciated Venus’ beauty for what it was. She was discovering, however, a disturbing territorial streak that cropped up whenever another woman showed any interest in Jack. She trusted Jack implicitly, but she knew women well-enough not to trust them all. Jack had explained his little tete-a-tete with Venus in the hallway of the police station, but a woman like that did things to a man - even a man as steadfast as Jack Robinson. 

Venus had made it clear in numerous ways that Henry was the only man for her, but Jack’s disguise and ability to imitate Henry had surprised them all and would make it all too easy for Venus to forget who he was. Her dress and choice of perfume would challenge even Jack’s mettle, but if Phryne could resist Henry, then Jack could resist Venus. He was, after all, far more experienced at resisting than she was. 

Venus worked the room on Jack’s arm as if they did it every night, smiling and chatting briefly with everyone. Jack easily gave off Henry’s aloof vibe, smiling little and shaking few hands. It was just an act between Jack and Venus, but the way she clung to his arm and touched him possessively caused the forked tongue of jealousy to rise up in Phryne’s throat all the same. She swallowed it down, told herself she was being dramatic, and walked toward them. 

“Can I take your drink order, Madam Venus, Mr. Stokes?” she asked.

“Martini for me,” Venus said. “Andre in the bar knows how I like it.”

“All right, Mr. Stokes?” She looked curiously up at him, as if she didn’t already know every single detail about his alcohol preferences. His return gaze was sprinkled with mirth and he waited a beat before replying.

“Just a whiskey is fine,” he rumbled. “Thank you.” 

“Our special guest isn’t here yet,” Phryne whispered. 

“Let us know as soon as you hear anything,” Jack replied, matching her sotto voce. 

“Don’t worry, I have several informants ready to give us the word.” And with that, she reluctantly took her leave to fetch their drinks. It wouldn’t do for a mere waitress to be seen in conspiratorial discussion with the owners.

+++

“You alright?” Jack asked after Phryne walked away. Venus’ eyes were darting around the room and her hand had been squeezing his arm more tightly than he’d expected while they’d been greeting the guests.

She sighed deliberately and forced her shoulders to relax. “Just anxious to get this over with,” she replied. She quickly schooled her features, but Jack saw the same fight-or-flight look in her eyes he’d seen in Phryne’s that fateful day in Cafe’ Replique, so he knew it was more than just nerves. Recalling what he knew about Venus’ recent history, he wondered if tonight was bringing back memories of the raid on her former business, and if so, he didn't blame her for her reaction. 

“I suppose you’ll just have to distract me, ‘Henry’,” she added, tossing a flirtatious wink in his direction.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” he asked. Before she could reply, one of the hostesses walked up to speak to her.

“Excuse me, Madam Venus, Mr. Stokes,” the girl said. “Margo says she doesn’t know if she can perform her belly dance routine tonight. She says she’s too broken up about Zoe. But Clio said she is ready to sing any time.”

“Thank you, Selena,” Venus said. She placed a hand on the girl’s arm. “How are the rest of you girls holding up?”

“We’re managing, ma’am,” she replied. “The show must go on.”

“Yes, it must,” Venus nodded and Selena excused herself. 

“Your drinks, Madam Venus, Mr. Stokes,” Phryne said as she approached them again, serving Venus first then Jack. “Still no sign of Ling,” she dropped her voice. “But the bar is filling up and Andre needs me to help out in there for a bit. I’ll tell Two-Bit to come directly to you if he arrives in the meantime.”

“Excellent,” Venus said in her regular voice. “Tell Andre thank you for another perfect martini.” 

“Will do, Madam Venus,” Phryne shared a conspiratorial look with her and left. She hadn’t looked at Jack during the entire exchange, so he wondered what she was up to, but he trusted her implicitly of course, so whatever it was he was certain it would help their cause tonight. 

“You were going to tell me how I was supposed to distract you,” he said, turning to Venus.

“Mmm, yes,” she sipped her drink. “But first things first, Henry never sits across from me.”

“No?”

“No, he’s usually standing behind my right shoulder, whispering filthy things into my ear.”

“I see,” Jack said. He gave her a curious look and she arched her eyebrows and tipped her head to the side where she wanted him to stand. He slowly stood up and sauntered around behind her chair, then lowered his head toward her ear. “Well, I wouldn’t want to make Henry look bad,” he said, closing his eyes to block out the view down her dress that he now had. 

“Oh, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Venus replied, leaning her head back so he could hear her, her blonde curls brushing the front of his suit. “That’s not filthy at all.”

There was no way on earth Jack was going to say actual filthy things to Venus DeRosier, regardless of his undercover mission. It was bad enough she wore the same perfume as Phryne, and he was standing close enough now to be surrounded by it. Her dress was as revealing as anything Phryne had ever worn in public, if not more, and he was glad he was now standing behind her where the area below his waist was hidden from view. He wasn’t interested in Venus at all, but he was still a man, and since that glorious night in the desert he’d allowed his body to respond more freely to Phryne, and her perfume was one of his biggest triggers. His usual trousers were tailored to give him plenty of room to chase a suspect or kneel comfortably at a crime scene, which conveniently helped hide his physical reactions to Phryne as well, but Henry’s trousers were tailored for a trimmer fit and the last thing he wanted was for his body to betray him in public. Finding a way to distract Venus and still play his role as Henry would require heavy artillery.

“I’m more of a Shakespeare man, myself,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. 

“That stuffy old bloke?” Venus scoffed. “Somehow I can’t imagine Miss Fisher enjoying all those thees and thous.”

“It’s not the least bit stuffy, if you understand the slang of his time,” Jack commented, choosing to ignore her mention of Phryne for now. Their shared enthusiasm for the Bard held a special place in his heart that he was loath to reveal, but there was plenty of Shakespeare to go around. 

“Slang?” She looked over her shoulder at him with curiosity and he nodded. “Well, then you must educate me,” she added. 

“Have you heard of the play, ‘Much Ado About Nothing’?” he asked, taking a larger sip of his drink, needing the extra fortification for where he was about to go.

“Seems like a rather frivolous topic for such a serious playwright.” 

“Another martini, Madam?” asked Selena, who was now holding the tray and taking drink orders. Jack looked around for Phryne, but wasn’t worried, just grateful for the small delay. Both he and Venus requested fresh drinks before Selena moved on. 

“The ‘nothing’ in the title is hardly frivolous,” Jack said, going back to the topic. “I’m sure you’ve heard a certain part of the male anatomy referred to as a ‘thing’,” he said clearing his throat and fighting the heat that was creeping up his neck, thankful for the lower light in the back of the room.

“Ooh, I believe I have heard that a time or two,” she nodded. 

“So, logically, women have no ‘thing’ and therefore…” he trailed off, letting her connect the dots on her own. 

She was quiet for a moment as she processed what he’d said. “So you’re saying the entire play is about making a fuss over chasing some tail?” She asked, a look of surprised triumph on her face. 

“Basically, yes.” Jack allowed himself a smile at her quick deduction and sparkling laughter that followed. “There is some underhanded plotting and clever matchmaking, and lots of confusion, which is why it’s a comedy, but it’s definitely not stuffy.”

“Well, I suppose some ‘thing’ could be ‘stuffed’ into ‘nothing’ if you make enough ado about it,” she grinned and it was his turn to chuckle at her clever comeback.

“Now you’ve got it,” he replied and tapped her glass with his before throwing back the last sip. He turned his head to speak into her ear, his nose brushing her golden curls as he was sure Henry’s did on occasion. “In fact, that exact pun is used in the play.” 

“Really?” She turned to him, eyes wide with delighted surprise. He simply nodded in response. This time when she laughed, her head fell back against his shoulder and the ringing sound lifted from her throat. It was all Jack could do to keep from staring as his gaze fell upon her low-cut neckline again. Even so, his eyes lingered longer than he wished, and his conscience glared disapprovingly at him in the back of his mind. 

When he glanced up again, Phryne was approaching from across the room but stopped dead in her tracks, almost spilling the tray holding their drinks. A variety of expressions were evident on her face, not the least of which was clearly betrayal: she’d seen what had just transpired between himself and Venus and a cold stone dropped in the pit of his stomach. He stiffened, his merriment swiftly cooled, and Venus noticed right away. 

“Henry?” she asked. 

“Miss Fisher,” he pointed his chin across the room. 

“Oh, god, I hope she didn’t get the wrong impression.”

“I’m afraid she may have,” Jack replied. He begged forgiveness with his eyes, but Phryne had already covered her emotions, and was moving again, crossing the room with purpose and leveling a gaze at Jack that declared, ‘I’ll deal with you later.’ 

“I’m so sorry, Inspector,” Venus said quietly before Phryne was in earshot.

“Mr. Ling just pulled up, and he’s brought reinforcements,” Phryne reported, handing them their refills. “Two cars and at least 6 additional men.”

“I’ve instructed Two-Bit and Snag to pat them down,” Venus said. “And to tell them it’s a new policy at the club - no weapons. That will take a few minutes. I also have enough girls on hand tonight to entertain them all while they wait. Have you seen Lola?”

“In the bar, talking to one of the undercover officers. He knows who she is. And Henry, Hugh and Detective Flynn are ready and waiting behind the bedroom door in your suite.”

“Thanks for keeping everything organized,” Jack said. He’d enlisted several of his own men not on the task force to pretend to be club members, in case more police support was needed, and to prevent leaks to Ling. The short notice of the operation also helped, and Phryne’s ability to keep the plates spinning without drawing attention was the lynchpin. 

“Of course,” Phryne smiled. “Now it’s up to Venus and Lola to kick the dominoes. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Venus said, taking a large swig of her drink.

“Don’t worry, you’re covered, we’ll get him.” The women shared a nod and Phryne walked away.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jack asked, moving around her so he could better see her face. The tension was rising off Venus in waves and she looked away.

“It’s just,” she hesitated, pursed her lips and continued. “Just deja’ vu is all. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, you will,” Jack assured her. “You survived that, you’ll survive this, too.”

“How much do you know?” she asked, a touch of shock adding to her anxiety.

“More than you probably wish I did,” he admitted. “But I’m no fan of dirty cops, either.” Her reaction to his statement expressed her understanding and gratitude.

“I want you to insist that you attend the meeting,” she said. “I know that’s not the plan, but let’s argue about it. You insist, I’ll tell you no, and you’ll eventually let me get my way.”

“Why?”

“Because it will intimidate Ling that Henry listens to me. He hates strong women. And also because,” she placed her hand on his chest and looked up at him. “Because I need to hear it, Inspector.”

Jack knew how protective Henry was of Venus, insisting that he himself be right next to the action, so he didn’t doubt that Venus knew Henry had her back. What she didn’t have was faith and trust in police officers, and that was definitely something he could give her. He nodded his assent to her request just as Ling entered the lounge.

“Smile, Venus,” Jack said, “We’re on.”  
+++


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my gosh, y'all! 3 chapters left!  
> Are you ready for the showdown?  
> Then let's get to it!  
> +++

“You really don’t think Geelong is going to win the Premiership this year, do you?” Hugh asked incredulously. Mick just shook his head at the younger man’s remark. 

“They have the healthiest players so far this year,” Mick explained. “And as good as Collingwood is, they’re constantly fighting injuries. Their players haven’t all worked together enough during the season to get to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. You have to know everything about your teammates in order to play your best matches.”

“But Collingwood’s wins have been so decisive,” Hugh argued. “They’ve beaten everyone so far by large margins.”

“It’s not going to last,” Mick said. “Geelong will peak during finals, but Collingwood has peaked already. In the last two weeks, their wins have been by smaller and smaller margins.”

“Collingwood has the best and most experienced players,” Hugh countered. “Lawson, Irwin, Cook, McCauley. All of their numbers are through the roof.”

“Teamwork is key, not individual numbers,” Mick stated. “You’ll see.” Hugh huffed a defiant breath, sure of his own reasoning, so Mick turned to the other occupant of the room. “What do you think, Henry? Who’s your pick this year?”

“Well, boys, I’m a North Hobart man from way back, so I don’t really have a dog in this fight,” Henry replied. “But I think your analysis makes more sense, Detective. Teamwork is key.”

“Your touts haven’t set up the odds yet?” Mick asked, needling Henry just a bit.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Henry replied, playing the innocent. The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door and Miss Fisher’s head popped in.

“Ling has arrived,” she said. “He and Venus and Lola should be down in about five minutes.”

“We’re ready,” Mick replied, and the other two nodded. Miss Fisher disappeared and the three of them looked at each other with determination. They checked their weapons, and the satisfying clicks of metal on metal calmed Mick. He was confident that the take-down would go well, as long as none of Ling’s informants in the police department had become aware of it. He was glad Jack was coordinating it with his people, while letting Mick take credit for it as part of the task force, ensuring good publicity and public confidence without tipping off any informants within the task force. It all seemed simple enough. 

His only worry was Lola, aka, Constable Nell Williams. He hadn’t seen her when he arrived earlier, for which he was thankful. She didn’t need her negative feelings about “Mr. Flaherty” to hinder her ability to do her job tonight. He’d been briefed on the discussion that Venus, Lola and Ling were going to have, as well as the conflict that Lola was supposed to create in order to upset Ling and force his hand. Her part was critical and therefore dangerous; her mind needed to be as clear and focused as possible. 

He still hoped that when it was all over, he might have a chance to at least talk to her.

+++

“It’s very tight back here, Miss Fisher,” Andre said as the two of them crouched behind the ornamental screen in a darkened corner of Madam Venus’ parlor. The screen was placed close to the bookshelves to look as if no one could hide behind it, and a chair and a large plant were set in front of it to prevent anyone getting too close. It was not part of the original plan for Phryne to be in the room, but she had altered the plan when she realized the back of the room wasn’t covered, especially if Ling brought reinforcements. When she saw that he had, she and Andre snuck down the back stairs to take their places. Jack would wonder where she was, but he would just have to trust her.

“Does that bother you?” she asked.

“Not at all,” he grinned dreamily at her. “I am enjoying working with you tonight.” Phryne had sensed his desire within the first few minutes of their meeting earlier in the evening, and had been brushing it off all night. That didn’t mean she didn’t flirt back when appropriate, but that was all he was going to get out of her. Maybe a year ago - before the Italian restaurant case - she might have invited Andre to supper after this operation was over, but no more. From that revelatory night in the desert, to their spontaneous lunchtime romp only eight hours ago, Phryne had desired no one else but Jack, and she didn’t see that changing anytime soon, if ever. 

“Good, because your job is to be completely silent while they’re talking, and we don’t go out unless I give the signal, all right?”

“Right,” Andre replied. “And when all of this is over? Will I see you again?”

“I’m not available, Andre,” she stated firmly, surprising even herself by saying it aloud. 

“Your loss then, Miss Fisher,” he remarked.

Phryne stifled a laugh. “Oh, no, not in the least.” 

+++

“Madam Venus,” Ling oozed, taking her hand and kissing the back of it in a show of good manners, but his eyes held dangerous intent. 

“Mr. Ling,” Venus replied, leaning back a bit as he moved closer. “Glad you could make it.”

“I see you have your lap dog with you again tonight,” Ling added, turning to Jack, no hand shake offered. 

“Guard dog, Ling,” Jack replied in an equally dangerous tone, his hand pressing protectively, reassuringly, against Venus’ back.

“We shall see about that,” Ling said. “If Madam Venus and I strike a deal, you will become my lap dog, too. I’m looking forward to adding a cut of your voluminous proceeds to my accounts.” Ling’s presumptuous tone and oily sneer dug under Jack’s skin and he knew Henry would hate the idea of being subject to Ling. 

“Like hell,” Jack growled, leaning forward and squaring his shoulders, his full height easily towering over the shorter Ling. 

“Henry, please,” Venus said, pressing her arm against his chest as if to hold him back and Jack relaxed, for now, but continued scowling at Ling. It was easy to do. 

“Good evening, Mr. Ling,” Lola cooed as she sidled up beside him, draping her hand over his shoulder and pressing against him. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Ah, Lola, my lovely lotus flower,” Ling smiled and put his arm around her, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. “It was such a delight to receive your invitation to discuss a prosperous future for Madam Venus and I.”

“Anytime,” she replied, gracing Ling with a charming smile. 

“Would you like a drink first, Mr. Ling?” Venus asked. 

“I would like to take my drink while we privately discuss business.”

“I have whiskey in my office, will that do?”

“That will be fine, but I hope you have a bottle of champagne chilling for when we come to an agreement.”

“We always have champagne on ice available for our members.”

“Wonderful. Shall we go then?”

Venus nodded and let go of Jack’s arm. He followed behind them but after just a few steps she turned around and placed a hand on his chest. 

“Henry, I’d prefer you didn’t attend this meeting,” she said.

“Of course I’m attending,” Jack said.

“Please, Henry. Let me handle this.”

“I don’t trust him, Venus,” Jack rumbled through gritted teeth. 

Venus pulled him back against the wall and spoke in a low voice, though Ling and Lola could certainly hear them. “I promise not to let him get close to your business.” 

“He’s already too close just trying to make a deal with you,” Jack insisted, pointing at Ling for effect. He’d seen Henry’s protectiveness of Venus - it was more than just business for Henry Stokes.

“Who says I have to accept his deal? It’s just a conversation.”

“Nothing is ever just a conversation with someone like Ling,” Jack said, actual concern for Venus adding intensity to his words. “He’ll trap you, and you’ll never get away from him.”

“I won’t let him. I know what I’m doing.” Fire and ice flashed in her eyes as she spoke. 

“This doesn’t just affect you, you know that,” he added, adding a touch of angry betrayal to his tone. 

“I’m sorry Henry. Please stay here.”

“No, I can’t let you go in there alone.” He wrapped his hand around her upper arm the way he often did to Phryne. “I won’t let you endanger your business.”

“I can handle myself and my business any way I like to, Henry Stokes.” She pulled her arm away and her voice rose slightly in volume as her anger flared. “And I’m happy to keep it separate from yours.”

They glared at each other for a moment. Jack wasn’t sure how much more of a scene Venus wanted to make but he couldn’t think of any more objections. He looked down and eased back, the barest of acquiescence. Venus squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. 

“I’ll be back shortly,” she stated, then turned and led Ling and Lola out of the lounge with all the regal bearing of Queen Mary. Jack continued to glare at the departing group, and when they disappeared into the hallway, he spun away from the middle of the room and cursed under his breath. He grabbed his whiskey glass and downed it in one gulp, partly to keep up his persona as Henry, and partly because the argument had sent adrenaline coursing through his system and he needed to calm down. He stormed out of the room and headed for the bar. All he could do now was wait. 

+++

The further Venus got from Inspector Robinson, the colder she felt, especially once two of Ling’s henchmen met up with the trio in the hallway and followed them down the stairs to her suite. The warmth of his personality and the heat of their fake argument had grounded her and stirred up the fighter within her. The adrenaline rush of their spat propelled her forward, while memories of dealing with Joey informed her, and she was ready for this to be over. She’d never had a problem with asserting her authority over her business, as she had last night when she’d kicked Ling out, but that was easy. Ensuring he would admit to certain things within earshot of police officers was more challenging, but it was a powerful feeling being the spider leading the fly to the center of the web. 

“Take a seat, Mr. Ling.” Venus waved to the chairs across from her desk while she moved to the bar cart to pour them each a drink. Lola went to her designated spot behind Venus’ left shoulder, within easy access of the gun in the left side desk drawer. 

“Thank you.” Ling took a seat and his two thugs stood sentry a few feet behind him, their faces intimidating in their impassiveness. “I do love the Greecian style you’ve created in your club. Quite the change from the traditional Victorian mixed with Eastern sensibilities seen in many of the other establishments.”

“I’ve never been a slave to convention, Mr. Ling,” she said, sitting down and taking a sip of her whiskey. “I’ve always done certain things a little bit differently.”

“Like burning down your own club in Sydney?” he asked pointedly. 

“They arrested a police officer for that - the one who led the raid.” Venus leaned back in her chair and kept her face as still and cold as possible. She wasn’t surprised he would use the Black Dahlia to unnerve her, again, even bringing up the rumors that were swirling in the city. His mention of it still stung, however, especially tonight when the memories were so close to the surface. 

“You mean Detective Holton? Your lover?”

“It’s possible that’s the name. As you can see, I didn’t let that little setback slow me down.” She waved her hand to indicate her new club. “Besides, I thought you were here to talk business, not gossip about old news.”

“I merely like to let my business partners know that I am aware of things in their past they may want to keep from the police or the press. It ensures a calm and smooth business relationship.”

“I’m sure it does. For you.”

“We do what we must.” Ling offered his oily grin again and cracked his knuckles before resting his hands calmly in his lap. “So what kind of business deal are you proposing?” 

“In my club in Sydney, I used to sell headache powders and specially blended cigarettes,” Venus began. “Cocaine and hashish, in small quantities, and rather diluted doses. It became a problem there, so I chose to ban all illegal drugs in my establishment here. But I spent a lot of money fixing up this place and I would like to repay my loans in a timely fashion. Lola has told me that you have the ability to provide an excellent product at a reasonable price.”

“That is true. As I’m sure you’re aware, I provide those products in undiluted doses, as well as the kind of special blends you’re talking about. The blends are secret recipes, handed down through my family and enhanced by my team of scientists.”

“Are they dangerous? I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Oh, they can be quite dangerous if you mix the wrong things together. A blend of cocaine and heroin, with some herbal extracts, can be a powerful combination, and may even cause an overdose in the wrong person, but I would certainly not make that available to you for sale. It requires an injection and is very expensive. The blends you are talking about are very low dose and very enjoyable for the customer. They are made with the finest quality ingredients in my lab and packaged with an exclusive label. If you’d like to create your own label, or add a certain proprietary ingredient, that would cost more, but I’m sure we can work out a deal.”

“Such as?”

“I will provide these special blends for you at a discount, but you must allow me to set up a distribution point through your establishment.”

“I can’t have you selling hard drugs on my property,” Venus stated flatly.

“Of course not, that would attract too much attention,” Ling agreed. “Your girls would sell for me.”

“This may be the type of business that runs along the outside edges of the law, Mr. Ling, but I still have police officers, lawyers and judges on the membership roster, and they would raid me and shut me down at a moment’s notice if my girls were seen selling hard drugs.”

“That is not what I’m proposing. The girls who agree to work with us would conduct most of their deals off the property, meeting the buyers in convenient locations around town. One of my assistants would come here once a week with product, distribute to the girls, and they would be responsible for bringing back the proceeds.”

“What happens if any of them get arrested?” Venus asked.

“You will make it clear to them that they are solely responsible. If they speak to the police about my involvement, then they become a liability, and there are consequences for becoming a liability.”

“Was Zoe a liability? Is that why she’s dead?”

“Sadly yes, she was. I needed to make an example of her to all my other employees. She can be an example to your girls as well.”

Venus stifled her emotions and merely nodded her head. She hoped Ling’s statement was enough of an admission for the police officers hiding behind the bedroom door. But the deal still needed to be made, and the fight still needed to happen.

“I don’t like the idea of them being out in the street with drugs,” Venus said. “It’s dangerous. That’s why I don’t allow them to moonlight.”

“I can provide them with small weapons like daggers, or even teach them some fighting skills if they are interested. This works for me through other businesses as well. Not just brothels, but large stores and cafes and pubs. George’s Department Store has been a wonderful partnership. And I would love to work with Mr. Stokes and his empire. We could all expand our businesses together.”

“I won’t speak for Mr. Stokes. Despite our engagement, my business is quite separate from his.”

“Maybe if this works out well between you and I, he’ll see the light and ask to join us.”

Venus wanted to laugh in his face and walk away. This whole conversation was such a farce in her mind but she had to keep going. It was almost over. 

“Mr. Ling,” she said after a moment’s contemplation. “As a business woman intent on making money, I am certainly intrigued by your offer, so here’s my counter offer. First, if I provide the girls to distribute your hard drugs, they need to get a sizable cut for their efforts and the dangers they may face in the streets. I believe 15% would be reasonable. Second, I won’t pay more than 50% of your regular sale price for the specially blended products as I need to make a profit above your cut. Third, since I’ll be giving you access to my business and my employees, I need a 25% cut of the drugs the girls sell to compensate for that access and the associated risks.”

“That’s preposterous!” Ling spat. “Do you know how much money you’re talking about?”

“It must be a lot for you to become so upset. But here’s how I see it. If something happens to one of my girls, there may be medical bills to pay, and I may lose her ability to work in the club until she’s healed. That costs me money. If she ends up like Zoe, well, that’s going to cost me even more, and I’m certain you won’t be interested in covering funeral costs. This is merely a way for me to know that my business is protected.”

“Zoe told me she got 30%,” Lola interjected. 

“She was lying. I only gave her 10%,” Ling huffed.

“Lola, don’t make this more difficult,” Venus said. “You’re only here because you arranged this meeting with Mr. Ling.”

“And I think that entitles me to a higher cut,” Lola countered. “How about this,” she said, walking around the desk to go stand next to Ling. “I’ll take that 30% myself and I’ll meet Mr. Ling’s man off the property to collect the product every week. I’ll take more risk, therefore, a higher cut. The other girls can get 10% of what they sell with a £5 bonus for bringing in a new client. Madam Venus will get 20% of what they sell, and keep the 50% discount on the special blends.”

“Forty percent discount,” Ling said, steepling his fingers.

“Every time one of you opens your mouth, I lose money,” Venus glared at them. “And Lola, whose side are you on?”

“The side with the money, Madam Venus.” 

“I don’t think I like your attitude,” Venus said, narrowing her eyes at Lola. “If you’re that interested in Mr. Ling’s business, why don’t you work for him exclusively? While I’d hate to see you go, you are replaceable.”

Lola gaped at Venus, her stunned reaction perfectly played. Then she gathered wits and stood to her full height and turned to Ling. “What do you think, Mr. Ling? I’ll come work for you and help you expand your business even more than Madam Venus is willing to. You can pay me a small salary, plus 10% of all the drugs I sell myself, and a 25% commission on all new business. I’ll even give you a discount on my regular rates,” she said, smoothing her hands over her breasts which were right at Ling’s eye level, caressing them as she leaned forward. “I think it would help your business immensely to have a woman’s skills and abilities to supplement your own. Think of it, ‘Ling & Lola Enterprises,’” she cooed.

“I’ll not have a woman running any part of my business,” Ling said, jumping up from his chair and yelling in Lola’s face. 

“But you need us,” Lola continued, undeterred. “You need me, at least.” She took his hand and placed it on her breast, giving him a come hither look.

“Lola, this isn’t wise,” Venus said, standing up herself, cautioning the younger woman.

“I don’t need ANY woman!” Ling spat, ripping his hand away from Lola’s breast and grabbing her by the back of the jaw with his fingers. Lola gasped and grabbed at his hand, but it wasn’t budging. “You see? It’s so much nicer when you’re quiet and do as I say.”

Ling’s two thugs stepped closer and Venus slid her hand toward the drawer with the gun. “You are nothing but tools to be used to get what a man needs,” Ling continued. “And when a woman is no longer useful, she is thrown away, like trash. Zoe was no longer useful, but since she’d already been to the police she needed to be eliminated. Eddie Spencer, too. Useless liabilities! And you, Miss Lola, are quickly becoming a useless liability yourself!” With that he let out a low whistle and the two thugs descended upon Lola with lightning speed, aiming their blows for her arm, her thigh and her lower back. She cried out and crumpled to the floor. 

“Lola, NO!” Venus yelled. “Somebody HELP!”

+++

Mick, Hugh and Henry blasted through the door, guns raised. At the same time, across the room Phryne and Andre burst from behind the screen, each jumping on the back of one of Ling’s thugs, attempting to take them down to the floor. They let go of Nell and wrestled with their attackers, smashing into tables and knocking over chairs. 

“Police! Hands in the air!” Mick shouted at Ling, who complied quickly. 

Henry went straight for Venus and she clung to him while he held his gun on Ling. 

Ling’s men, seeing the guns, stopped their fighting and raised their hands as well. Phryne pulled her gun from a holster on her thigh and held it on the two men while Andre took rope from his pockets to tie each of them up. With her other hand, Phryne pulled Nell off the floor and into her embrace. “It’s alright now,” she said as the younger woman buried her face in Phryne’s shoulder to catch her breath. 

Hugh held his gun on Ling as well, while Mick pulled out the cuffs and clapped them on. 

“Christopher Ling, you are under arrest for the murders of Edward Spencer and Emily Farnsworth, and for a whole host of drug-related charges.” He pushed Ling toward Hugh, then turned toward Phryne and Andre. Andre was tightening the ropes on the two thugs while Phryne held her gun on them with one arm, and held up Nell with the other.

“Nice work, Miss Fisher, Andre,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Likewise, Detective,” Phryne said.

“You-,” Nell let go of Phryne and took a step toward Mick. “You’re a cop?”

“Detective Michael Flynn, City South, at your service, Constable Williams.” They looked at each other for a moment, and Mick’s insides turned to jelly wondering what she was going to do. 

“Oh, thank god!” she declared and threw herself against him, winding her arms tightly around his neck and kissing him. He stumbled a bit at the force of her enthusiasm, but wrapped his free arm around her in return and kissed her back. Jack was right: his luck had finally changed.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is solved, the bad guy has been caught, but there are always a few loose ends to tie up.  
> +++

“Well, looks like everything is under control in here.” Jack took stock of the situation in Venus’ parlor, stepping over a downed plant and a side chair as he entered the room. Ling and his henchmen were standing together, hands tied and cuffed, and Hugh was holding his gun on them to keep them still. 

“Inspector? Sir?” Hugh gaped at his first sight of Jack that evening, then looked back and forth between Jack and Henry. “Wow, that’s just… Wow.” 

“Don’t get used to it, Constable,” Jack quipped. 

“You do look very dashing tonight, Inspector,” Phryne said, sidling up to him, pretending to straighten his tie. “You could do with a little more color in your wardrobe.” 

“You should have told me you were going to be in here,” he said to her, his concern humming just under the surface. When he hadn’t seen her anywhere in the club during the time Ling was meeting with Venus, he knew she’d somehow figured out a way to be involved, and it had worried him. He was thankful to see her all in one piece, not that he expected anything else, but he would always worry about her. 

“When I saw Ling had brought reinforcements, I altered the plan.” She lifted her chin, confident that she’d made the right decision.

“And good thing she did, too,” Mick added. “She and Andre took down those two blokes while Hugh and I took care of Ling.”

“Of course she did.” Jack gave her a look, then turned to Mick, one hand holding his gun on the arrestees, his other hand holding Nell’s. “Did you get what you needed, Detective?” he asked, referring to any incriminating evidence Ling might have revealed.

“Yes, sir, and more,” Mick said, then looked at Nell. “Much more.” Jack couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching up in a small smile.

“Madam DeRosier, are you all right?” 

“Yes, Inspector. Thank you.” Her eyes were calm now and she was tucked under Henry’s protective arm. Henry held his firearm down at his side, and he shared a nod of understanding with Jack. 

“Then I suppose we should take Mr. Ling and his companions down to the station,” Jack said, and Detective Flynn with Constables Collins and Williams drug the criminals out of the room. At the same time, the other undercover officers were quietly collecting Ling’s men from other parts of the club and quietly escorting them out to waiting police cars. 

“Constables Franklin and Nichols,” Jack beckoned the two uniformed constables that had entered the parlor with him. They choroused a “yes, sir” and made their way over. “Take separate statements from Mr. Stokes and Madam DeRosier so they don’t have to come to the station tonight. It’s been a long day.”

“I’m going to go check on the girls,” Phryne said. “I’m sure they’re wondering what’s been going on.”

“Thank you, Miss Fisher,” Venus said. “That would be greatly appreciated.” Phryne turned to go and Venus took a step toward Jack. “Inspector, a word?” Venus said, leading him to the side of the room. He saw Phryne shoot him a look out of the corner of his eye before turning on her heel and walking out. 

“Thank you again for tonight,” she said to him, her voice quiet. “Not just for dealing with Mr. Ling, but,” she hesitated, looked down, then back into his eyes. “But for being one of the real good guys.” She motioned for Henry who came and stood next to her and she tucked her arm around his waist. “Not all good guys wear a badge,” she concluded. “But some do.”

“All part of the job,” Jack replied. “You can call myself, or Detective Flynn, anytime you need us.”

“Thank you. And in the meantime, I’ll be brushing up on my Shakespeare.” Her eyes sparkled and a sly grin formed on her lips.

“I look forward to your progress,” he replied, returning her smile. “Now, I’d like to change if I could before I leave.”

“Oh, use the bedroom,” Venus said. “Your suit is hanging up in there. And the bathroom too, if you need it.”

“Thank you.” Jack made his way to the bathroom, flipped on the light and peeled the fake whiskers off his face as quickly as possible without taking his skin with it, then washed the area with warm, soapy water to remove all the glue. He looked in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair, finding his part again and combing the rest off to the sides as best he could with his fingers. 

Venus’ bedroom was even more opulent than Phryne’s, and she’d spared no expense on the Grecian theme. She had certainly put Henry’s money to good use. He tried not to look around too much, but the painting above the mantle caught his attention. He squinted at the plaque attached to the frame while he undid Henry’s tie and waistcoat. “The Triumph of Venus by Francois Boucher,” it read. How appropriate, Jack thought. 

+++

“Oh, there you are.” Phryne was walking back into Venus’ parlor as Jack was walking out of the bedroom and a twinge of disappointment caught her up short. “You’ve changed.” He was back in his charcoal suit and dark blue tie, his hair was finger-combed back into his usual style, and his face was free of fake whiskers. He was carrying his topcoat over one arm and his fedora in his hand, and he guided her to the back of the room so as not to disturb the statements Venus and Henry were still giving.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on going outside looking like Melbourne’s Most Wanted,” Jack quipped quietly and she really couldn’t disagree; there were police officers who would arrest Henry Stokes on sight. Yet, she had hoped to have the chance to spend a little more time with her “Henry.”

“I was thinking ‘Henry’ might enjoy a little fan dance later tonight,” she said with a small pout. “Being here has brought back all those memories.” 

“I will not help you indulge your ‘Henry Stokes’ fantasies, Miss Fisher,” he said and rolled his eyes. She just grinned at him and he huffed an impatient sigh. “Are you ready to go? I need to get to the station.”

“Let me just say goodbye.” She walked over to where Venus was sitting and touched her on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the Inspector and I must excuse ourselves.”

“Oh, Miss Fisher,” Venus stood and took Phryne’s hands.

“Please, call me Phryne.”

“And you must call me Venus. Thank you again for everything. And I still owe you your fee - you found out what I wanted to know.”

“No fee is required,” Phryne said with a gentle wave of her hand. “Instead, how about a foundational donation to Every Australian Woman?”

“Absolutely,” Venus beamed. 

“Wonderful. I’ll call you one day next week, after all this settles down.” The women hugged each other warmly, Jack and Henry shook hands, then Jack and Phryne left Club Phoenix. 

“You really did an excellent job tonight,” Phryne said as they drove to the station. “Everyone in the place thought you were Henry, even the girls. Are you sure you aren’t interested in the theater?” They had done a little role playing in the privacy of their bedroom, nothing too serious, and Jack had always been willing to go along, and she’d discovered his flair for the dramatic wasn’t limited to complaining about her “old friends”. His turn as Henry Stokes that evening cemented her conviction of his acting abilities, so she couldn’t help but ask.

“No,” he stated flatly. “Now and always, no.”

“And you with all that Shakespeare rattling around in your head,” she sighed.

“Hmm, about that,” he said, staring hard out the windshield at the darkened streets. 

“What about that?” she said, curious, sensing he was about to tell her something she didn’t want to hear. 

“I may have overplayed the whole thing a bit,” he said. “I didn’t intend for you to see me behaving so… flirtatiously with Madam DeRosier,” he confessed. “I didn’t intend to behave that way at all.”

“Jack, you were playing a part. That is exactly how Henry would have behaved himself. But what does that have to do with Shakespeare?”

“She told me that Henry often whispers filthy things in her ear and I was not going to do that, so I went with Shakespeare.”

“Regular Shakespeare or filthy Shakespeare?”

“I was explaining the meaning of ‘Much Ado About Nothing’,” he said, shaking his head. If it wasn't dark in the car, Phryne was sure his cheeks would be reddening. She threw back her head and laughed. “I must admit,” he continued, “for someone who had no idea Shakespeare was anything but stuffy, she picked up on the Bard’s bawdiness rather quickly.”

“Jack Robinson, don’t you dare be embarrassed,” she said. “You were having fun, I saw you.”

“So you weren’t jealous?” he asked. 

“Only that I wasn’t in on the joke,” she replied, as casually as possible. “Really, Jack, I’ve told you before, it’s quite all right to flirt with other women if you’re having a good time, and especially if it’s part of an investigation.” They’d talked about it and she’d insisted on equality in these matters, but this was really the first time she’d had to put her convictions to the test. I had been harder than she’d expected, but she would never let him know that.

“I don’t even mind if you take a moment to appreciate another woman’s beauty,” she continued. “And my God, Venus was beautiful tonight, so I don’t blame you one bit for… looking down her dress.” She cleared her throat and stifled the last flicker of unreasonable jealousy. She had his heart, and he hers, and there was no question of their commitment to each other. “I trust you, Jack. And we both know what side our toast is buttered on.”

“Thank you. I just wanted to apologize if I needed to,” he said, taking her hand across the seat.

“No need to apologize, but I forgive you if it makes you feel better.” He nodded and smiled at her and she squeezed his hand.

“I happen to like your toast with marmalade, though,” Jack offered a moment later, the subtle cheekiness in his voice unmistakable to Phryne. 

“Juicy peach marmalade, if I’m not mistaken,” she purred and scooted closer to him on the seat. Her left hand snaked itself under his jacket and her right toyed with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, while her lips brushed softly against his cheek. He didn’t move or complain, but kept his eyes front, hands steady on the wheel, and a smug smile on his face, and Phryne had to admit he was an excellent driver.

+++

“Well, that was quite a productive evening,” Mick said. He and Nell were sitting in the visitors chairs in Jack’s office, while Jack and Miss Fisher sat on the other side of the desk. Ling and his henchmen were tucked up in the cells for the night, and Jack was signing off on the paperwork while they wrapped up the case. 

“I’m still shaking from the excitement,” Nell said, holding out her hand to show her vibrating fingers. 

“You did a fabulous job, Nell,” Phryne said and Mick rubbed her across the back. He had been impressed with her ability to be cool under pressure. He still had a lot of questions, but there would be plenty of time for that. 

“Can you believe he dropped that bit about George’s? That’s huge,” Nell said. 

“The task force will certainly be looking into it,” Mick said. 

“Won’t that network fall apart now that Ling is in custody?” Phryne asked. 

“Not necessarily,” Mick replied. “Ling has many layers to his operation, and there are certainly men tasked with keeping that large a network up and running without Ling being involved day-to-day.” He turned to Nell. “Could be another undercover mission for the task force, Constable Williams. If you’re up for it.”

“Give me a couple days to recover from this one and you’re on,” she smiled. 

“His mention of the heroin in his toxic blend was a break as well,” Jack said. “That was the second largest substance in Eddie Spencer’s system after cocaine, so along with his motive and admission of the crime, we can hopefully lock him up for that murder. But without witnesses, or any hard evidence to tie him to Miss Farnsworth last night - other than Ling’s own words - we may not be able to pin that one on him. Detective Spencer may still take the fall for it.” 

“Damn,” Phryne muttered. They all looked up when Hugh knocked on the door frame. 

“Sir, I couldn’t help overhearing, since the door was open, but what you said made me remember something.” He stepped into the room and handed the file folder across to Jack. “A man named Theodore Trabant came in earlier today and gave a statement that he witnessed Miss Farnsworth’s murder. I didn’t have a chance to tell you before since you were already at Club Phoenix when he came in.”

“Thank you Hugh.” Jack flipped open the folder and Phryne leaned over his shoulder as he read. “Zoe told me to distract an older man who might be chasing her,” he read. “But I didn’t see him, so I followed her to make sure she was all right. I heard her crying and a man talking. I got closer and hid behind some crates. I saw her kneeling on the ground and Christopher Ling pointing a gun at the back of her head. She said ‘I’m so sorry, Eddie,’ and then he shot her. Ling then put the gun on her back and disappeared down the laneway toward Bourke Street.”

There was a brief silence in the room as everyone felt the death of the young woman all over again. 

“Damn, if only,” Jack cursed half under his breath. 

“It’s not your fault, Jack,” Phryne said quietly, placing a hand on his back. He nodded and sighed.

“Did this Trabant character call the police?” Mick asked.

Jack looked back in the folder. “Says here he took a room at a boarding house, but couldn’t sleep so he called in the anonymous tip about Zoe’s body to City Central early in the morning.” He shut the folder and tossed it on top of the pile. “No guarantee Trabant’s testimony will be accepted, but it does confirm the evidence.”

“Detective Inspector Robinson.” A man’s authoritative voice called from the lobby followed by the man himself. 

“Commissioner Rogers.” Jack, Mick and Nell all stood at attention.

“Good evening, Jack, Miss Fisher, Detective Flynn,” Rogers acknowledged, then looked at Nell. “And you are?”

“Constable Nell Williams, sir,” she said. 

“Interesting uniform,” Rogers remarked, taking in Nell’s beaded dress and glittery headband. 

“Constable Williams was undercover with us at Club Phoenix tonight,” Mick explained. 

“Ah. That’s what I’ve come to talk about.” He tossed a stack of folded, rubber-banded pages on top of the files on Jack’s desk.

“What are these?” Jack asked, picking them up. 

“Resignations. It’s been two hours since you arrested Ling, and these have been flying into my office ever since. I suspect there may be more in the morning.”

The four of them were speechless at the Commissioner’s announcement, and stood there staring at the stack of resignations as if they were radioactive.

“From whom?” Jack asked, handing the stack back to Rogers. 

“Various members of the force from all over the city, including members of the task force, AND Assistant Commissioner Holdsworth and Deputy Commissioner Maxwell.”

“Blimey,” Mick said. “I knew there were some bad apples, but the task force? Maxwell?”

“I’m not surprised,” Nell said. “Ling told me last night that he had eyes and ears in every station in the city, that he knew who was on the task force and even the autopsy findings for Eddie Spencer.”

“When did he tell you that?” Mick asked. 

Her cheeks turned pink and she hesitated for a moment, but held her head high. “When I was pretending to be interested in selling for him,” she said. Mick gulped when he realized it was when she was behind the curtain with Ling, and held his tongue, especially in front of the others in the room.

“Frankly, I’m not surprised either,” Commissioner Rogers said. “Shocked, but not surprised. This police force needed a good airing out and the arrest of Christpher Ling will do just that. Thank you Inspector Robinson, Detective Flynn, and Constable Williams, and everyone else who helped us tonight. Get me all the names, Jack; there will be letters of commendation for everyone.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said. 

“Detective Flynn, I’m appointing you lead investigator on the task force - since McCallan’s letter is in there as well - and that will come with a promotion to Senior Detective Inspector.”

Mick’s jaw dropped for the third time that night. “Thank you, sir,” he said, standing tall and trying not to gush. 

“Congrats, mate,” Jack said and everyone else smiled. 

“Saving the best for last,” Rogers said, turning to Jack. “I have you to thank, Jack, for the tip-offs about the task force, giving me the evidence I need to actually send some of these resignations to jail, and uncover more corruption within our ranks. If they were allied with Ling, who knows what else they were into.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Anyway, I know you were recently promoted to Superintendent, but due to this stack of resignations the promotion board will have to meet again soon. I’m putting your name on the list for Chief Superintendent myself. I believe there will finally be an open office for you at Russell Street so you can get out of this dingy little closet.”

“Thank you, sir, but it’s too soon,” Jack stammered a bit.

“It’s time, Jack. I need people I can trust leading this flock of chooks running around with their heads cut off. I’ll even let you work any of the big homicide cases you want, as long as it doesn’t take time away from straightening out this mess you’ve caused by arresting Ling.”

“Sir?”

“You can take your name off the list if you like, but I wouldn’t if I were you.” Rogers donned his hat and nodded at the group. “Good night, all,” he said and left the room. 

They waited a few moments until they heard the outer door shut, then they all relaxed. Mick turned to Jack and extended his hand.

“Congrats to you too, mate.” 

“Really, Jack, that’s quite the vote of confidence,” Phryne said, moving to stand close to him, a proud smile on her face. 

“It’s just a lot to think about right now,” he said, his brow furrowed. 

“Well, if that’s all for tonight, I’m going to escort Constable Williams home,” Mick said. “I just have a few follow-up questions for her about the operation tonight - for my own notes.” He helped Nell on with her coat and she smiled at him. 

“Go ahead, Mick,” Jack said. “We can catch up tomorrow.”

“Before you leave,” Phryne said. “I have a question, Nell.”

“Yes, Miss Fisher?”

“Did you not know Detective Flynn was a police officer before the arrest?”

“No, Miss. I met him in the club two nights ago and he was undercover as a member named Mr. Flaherty, Irish accent and everything.”

“Saints preserve us,” Mick said, laying it on thick.

“And then last night,” Nell continued, “I saw him talking to Mr. Ling and I thought he was just another grubby bastard on the take, until I saw him bust through the door and arrest Ling. Then I realized his conversation with Ling was probably task force related.”

“You two really must have hit it off if you felt the urge to jump into his arms and kiss him like that,” Phryne pressed gently.

“I received full marks on my Academy exam, and there was nothing in the manual about kissing another officer, so I’m not going to apologize,” Nell said.

“And I won’t be filing a complaint,” Mick added, putting his arm around her. 

“It appears the manual may need an overhaul now that we have more women on the force,” Jack commented dryly, giving them both a small smile. “Now get Constable Williams home, Detective. You’ll both have some paperwork to clean up tomorrow.”

They nodded their yes sirs and hustled out of the station. Out on the street, Mick pulled Nell close and looked in her eyes. “You’re brilliant,” he said to her.

“You’re not bad yourself,” she said. “But how did you know my name? You said it when you introduced yourself in Madam DeRosier’s office.”

“Oh…,” Mick was caught up short. “I did, didn’t I.”

“Did you know I was a cop when we were behind the curtain?” she pressed.

“Inspector Robinson told me before I went to the club last night,” Mick admitted. “He knew you were going to be meeting with Ling and he wanted me to have your back.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

“He told me not to break my cover or yours. Believe me, it was hard. Especially when you saw me talking to Ling and I could tell you felt betrayed because you didn’t want me to be one of them. In fact,” he took her hands and held them tight. “That’s what gave me hope - you wanted me to be different, and I was only hoping that, when it was all over, you’d let me prove to you that I am.”

“Then prove away, Detective,” she smiled. Mick smiled back, slipped an arm around her waist and bent his head to kiss her. Luck may have brought her into his life, but it would be daily proof that would keep her there. 

+++

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Phryne said. “But I’m ready to go home and have a drink, or three.”

“Agreed,” Jack said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. He stacked up the file folders for the case and placed a large paperweight over them, then helped Phryne on with her coat and they headed out the door. 

Their post-case nightcaps were one of Jack’s favorite rituals, even more so now that he didn’t have to leave afterward. Mr. Butler had an uncanny knack for knowing when a case was over and always mixed them a special cocktail to celebrate. Tonight’s libation was something with rye whiskey and absinthe that was going straight to Jack’s head, not that he minded. 

“You know, I rather like your ‘dingy little closet’ at City South,” she said, leaning against him on the settee after refilling their drinks. “We have a lot of great memories there.”

“I suppose we’ll have to make some new memories at Russell Street,” he said. 

“So you’re not going to take your name off the list? I know you’ve said you’re not interested in climbing the ladder, but the Commissioner seems to want to drag you up the rungs all the same.”

“It’s not that I’ve not wanted to rise in the ranks, I just didn’t want the elevation itself to be the reason. That was Sanderson’s goal - rank for rank’s sake - and you see where that got him.”

“Sounds like Rogers is going to give you some latitude to make some real changes.”

“I hope so. I’ll need some assurances from him before I make a final decision.”

“Until then,” she said, swallowing the last of her drink and turning toward him. “There’s one more memory I want to make in your ‘dingy little closet’.” Her eyes twinkled and her fingers played with the hollow between his clavicles above his loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt. 

Maybe it was the alcohol that was relaxing his inhibitions, or maybe it was the mischievous smile on her lips, but he suddenly wasn’t opposed to what she was suggesting. 

“And how do you see that playing out, Miss Fisher,” he asked. “Without us getting caught?”

“It’s your closet, Inspector,” she said. “Surprise me.”

“I can do that,” he said and tipped her chin up to kiss her. It was long past time to finally act out some of his private imaginings of her in his office. What might surprise her even more was that he already had a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come back tomorrow for the Epilogue! Phryne is throwing a party and you're all invited!


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the social event of the season - a glittering gala at Ripponlea!  
> There will be music and dancing, a few speeches and announcements, and plenty of booze!  
> So get your glad rags on and come celebrate with Phryne, Jack, Henry, Venus and the rest.  
> +++++

“Thanks again, Aunt P, for letting us use your home,” Phryne was saying as she dropped a kiss on the older woman’s cheek when the receiving line had dwindled to nothing. Most of the guests had finally arrived for the occasion that had started out as an intimate party at Wardlow but turned into a gala at Ripponlea, and the ballroom was a kaleidoscope of glittering color. 

“You know I’m never one to turn down an opportunity to fundraise for worthy causes, my dear,” Prudence said, then turned to Jack. “And to celebrate major accomplishments, Chief Superintendent Robinson.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Stanley,” Jack acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. He had been working on accepting his new position - and the accolades that had come with it - in the month that had followed the arrest of Christopher Ling and the rushed approvals of the promotions board to fill the gaps left by all the resignations. He certainly didn’t feel any different than he did when he was just a Senior Inspector, except for the type and quantity of work he was doing, but measurable differences were already being seen around the Force, so he was satisfied with that for now. And he and Phryne had still managed to investigate and solve a couple more murders, as well. 

“With many more major accomplishments to come,” Phryne beamed beside him. “Now let’s find ourselves a drink.” She took his arm and guided him into the main ballroom where they plucked a pair of champagne flutes off the tray of a passing waiter. Heads turned and eyes gazed as they waded through the crowd, which was something else Jack was still trying to get used to. Everywhere they went, everyone looked at Phryne, and, by extension, at him. 

“They’re all ogling your uniform, Jack,” she said, but he knew that wasn’t true; there were fifteen other officers in uniform scattered around the room and Jack was still trying to figure out why Commissioner Rogers had insisted on it. Phryne, however, was resplendent tonight, her golden dress glittering as she moved, and Jack felt as if he were escorting a living trophy on his arm. Forget the Melbourne Cup; he would never win anything as impressive or valuable as the heart of Phryne Fisher, and it humbled him every day. 

They wandered over to where Henry and Venus were talking with Lucille and D.B. Turner of Periwinkle Press. “Fabulous party, Phryne,” Lucille gushed and greeted her with a pair of cheek kisses. 

“It’s so exciting, isn’t it? To kick off Every Australian Woman in such grand fashion?” Phryne replied. 

“I knew once your Aunt heard about it, she wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And I’m so glad you are able to join us, D.B.,” Phryne said to Lucille’s bespeckled and mustachioed husband.

“Sadly, that storm brewing in the Bass Strait is keeping me and my fishing party from partaking of the excellent tuna season in Tassie, but I suppose I can be satisfied with helping you make your excellent libations disappear instead.” He lifted his cocktail in salute before taking a healthy swig. 

“I hate to admit it, but I’m a bit nervous about speaking in front of all these important people,” Venus admitted. 

“You faced down the biggest drug lord in Melbourne,” Phryne said. “You’ll do just fine. And Lucille and I will be right there by your side.”

“The worst thing that could happen is they’ll think you’ve gone legit,” Henry teased her.

“Well, considering all the male faces I recognize here tonight, I hope that doesn’t happen,” she said. “Might be bad for business.”

“Speaking of business,” Phryne said. “There’s Melba and Minnie Cruise. I’ve been meaning to talk to them about offering some services to the women we’re helping. Shall we, ladies?” Venus and Lucille heartily agreed. “Excuse us, gentlemen,” Phryne said, and the three of them strode across the room like ships in formation while the three men watched them go. 

“I’m going to visit the buffet,” D.B. announced after a moment. “Either of you care to join me?” Both Jack and Henry declined then made their way to the bar for a couple glasses of whiskey.

“At least no one will mix us up tonight, Jack,” Henry said, flipping Jack’s medals playfully with his index finger. “There’s no way in hell you’d ever see me in that get up.”

“What? Don’t you and your gangster friends give each other medals for exemplary service to the gangster community?” Jack quipped. Henry shot him a look, then chuckled. Jack decided he rather enjoyed verbally sparring with Stokes - it was much better than some of the more violent interactions between cops and gangsters in the city. 

“Cheers, mate,” Henry said, lifting his drink toward Jack.

“Cheers,” Jack replied as they tapped glasses. 

+++

Phryne loved the swirl of a fancy party, flitting around the room chatting with everyone, laughing with her friends, dancing, eating, and drinking. Often she would glance around the room for Jack, who was usually never far, watching her and enjoying the view. She remembered the first time he’d done it, at her birthday party two years ago after they’d found Janey; he’d leaned quietly against the doorframe of her parlor and smiled, lifting his glass, his thoughts inscrutable in his steel blue eyes. Now that she had a better idea what he was thinking when he looked at her like that, a small tremor of delight would ripple through her in anticipation of being alone with him again. 

Thinking about him made her look for him, and with only a quick glance, spotted him easily, watching her, smiling, lifting his glass. Tonight, he was wearing his Victoria Police Force dress blue uniform for the first time since she’d met him and he looked impossibly dashing. There were medals on his jacket and a silver braid over one shoulder, along with various other pins and badges that spoke of a successful and meritorious career. When he’d first put it on while they were getting ready, she’d wanted to ask him about every single commendation, but he’d taken her curious fingers in his hands and reminded her that they didn’t want to be late. She returned his current smile and felt the tremor in her midsection. It was time to get to the real reason why they were all there. The sooner all the announcements were over, the sooner she and Jack could leave for their own private celebration. 

She found Chief Commissioner Rogers and whispered it was time, and he followed her to the stage. The band finished their song early and the bandleader cued his trumpet player to rattle off a fine fanfare to get everyone’s attention. Phryne stepped to the microphone and looked for Jack again and his solid presence grounded her, even while her heart was soaring with excitement.

“Good evening, friends, is everyone enjoying themselves?” A ripple of agreement and polite applause fluttered across the room. “Don’t be shy,” she said at the tepid response, which brought laughter and a more hearty applause. “That’s better. Now, as you know, the main reason we are here is to kick off a new charitable organization called Every Australian Woman, but, before we do that, I’m sure many of you have noticed all the dashing blue uniforms around the room. We are honored to have some of the Victoria Police Force’s finest officers here tonight, all of them recently promoted. And because of that, I’m going to turn over the microphone to Chief Commissioner Lyle Rogers for some special remarks. Commissioner?”

“Thank you, Miss Fisher,” Rogers said, exchanging places with Phryne. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It is no secret we’ve had some changes happening in the Victoria Police Force, especially here in Melbourne. You all read the papers, so I won’t go into detail here tonight, but I would like to invite all the newly-promoted officers and their partners to come stand across the front of the stage, please. Front and center, gentlemen.”

The men in uniform looked around as if the Commissioner couldn’t possibly be talking about them, but soon they were all escorting wives and girlfriends toward the front, including Detective Flynn with Nell Williams on his arm. A servant rolled in a cart stacked with Bibles and handed one to each of the women. Phryne plucked a Bible off the cart and met Jack in line. He gave her a ‘what are you up to?’ look, but she just smiled. She loved surprising him, although he’d certainly already guessed what was going on. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Rogers said. “Standing before you are some of the finest officers in Victoria, and, I would submit, all of Australia.” Up and down the line, the men stood a little straighter, a little prouder. “In all the rush to fill vacancies, we haven’t had time to administer the oaths of office they take every time they achieve a new rank. That is, until Miss Fisher stepped in and offered this auspicious occasion to host our hallowed ceremony. So, without further ado, ladies, if you will, stand in front of your officers and hold the Bibles out for them.” The women complied, smiles on all their faces. “Gentlemen, left hand on the good book and raise your right hand.”

When Jack placed his hand on the Bible, his demeanor shifted. As if a switch had been flipped, he was now thoughtful and serious, almost remote. His eyes stared beyond Phryne’s shoulder, his gaze layered with meaning and memories. She’d seen that look before, when they would talk about their experiences during the war, but she knew not to be sad or worried. It was the memories that propelled him to act, and live, for the good of others.

Rogers administered the oath and she listened carefully, absorbing the solemn words repeated in Jack’s rich and resonant baritone. 

“I, Jonathan Edwards Robinson, swear by Almighty God, that I will well and truly serve our Sovereign the King as a police officer in Victoria ....,” he recited. The words rolled off his tongue with familiarity and reverence, the way some might recite a common prayer. She wasn’t a big believer in loyalty to kings and countries, preferring to give people and causes higher priority, and to a certain degree Jack felt the same, but he had chosen this path as his way of helping others and it was one of the things she dearly loved about him. 

“... and that while I continue to be a police officer, I will, to the best of my ability, discharge all the duties legally imposed on me faithfully and according to law.”

There was a deep and anticipatory heartbeat of silence after the men finished their oaths. A pin drop on the marble floor could have been heard by everyone, and Phryne was momentarily mesmerized, gazing at Jack while they all waited in obedient stillness for the spell to be broken. 

“Thank you, Officers,” Rogers finally said. “Congratulations on your new ranks.” The room broke into applause and everyone relaxed. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Rogers continued. “These men have your safety and the good of our community as their highest priority. Support them, work with them, and together we can make Victoria a glittering jewel in the crown of Australia.” Rogers excused the men to break ranks and return to the party. 

“To achieve that worthy goal,” he went on, “I would like to announce that the Victoria Police Force will be looking at ways to partner with various charitable organizations to assist needy citizens we encounter during the course of our daily patrols and investigations. Heading up this effort for the Force is newly-minted Chief Superintendent, Jack Robinson. Jack?”

+++

Jack had prepared some notes, just a few points he wanted to remember to include, but he’d been ready for this for a long time. Since the moment Phryne had insisted on fostering Jane, Jack had known she was different. He knew her opinions about the welfare programs for children and other state-run institutions for the disabled, dependent, and indigent, and he’d seen her frustration when she couldn’t help or affect change. Her heart was boundless in its capacity to care for the welfare of others, and her desire to save the world compelled her to do whatever she could to improve their lives. It was a sentiment they shared and discussed frequently. Now, with the police on board, so many more people were going to be helped, and in far greater ways than the state ever could. He stepped to the microphone with confidence, and with a glance at Phryne, her eyes full of pride and support, he greeted the gathered crowd.

“Thank you, Commissioner. The last time I attempted to give a speech, I was rudely interrupted by Miss Fisher landing her biplane in the middle of her own memorial service,” he related, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the crowd. He looked toward Phryne again and they shared a smirk. “She has promised me she will refrain from interrupting this evening.” When the room settled again, Jack cleared his throat for the main portion of his remarks, explaining the new arrangement. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for being here tonight, and for your continued support of the Victoria Police, as well as the many charitable organizations in our fair city. While the State of Victoria has resources that work for some, they do not work for all, and oftentimes those we seek to help, end up in a worse state. State care is not nimble or flexible or personal. It treats all recipients the same while consuming the least amount of resources possible. It is not generous or forward-thinking, and often not kind or compassionate. 

“The police force knows these things, yet we are often hamstrung by policy and tradition to seek state care for those in need, simply because we are given no other options. However, from now on, our officers will be given the knowledge, resources and training to seek alternative means of assistance for those we encounter as we do our jobs, and the citizens of Victoria will be better-served because of it. 

“One of the first of many charitable efforts we will be partnering with is the new organization which brings us here tonight: Every Australian Woman. Women are the bedrock of our society, though they often receive the least support. And, let’s face it, gents, most of us wouldn’t be where we are today without a few good women in our lives.” Jack paused while the men nodded in understanding, many of them tucking their arms around the women at their sides. 

“This new charity,” Jack continued, “was founded by three outstanding Australian women - one of them being your inimitable hostess, the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher. Those of you who know Miss Fisher, know that she is not just on the lookout for new causes, but also for your generous support and isn’t afraid to ask for it. I’m sure you’ll all want to hear what she and her co-conspirators,” he paused a beat while laughter bubbled across the room. “Pardon me, cohorts - have to say. Miss Fisher?”

He turned toward her as she walked across the stage, followed by Venus and Lucille. She was smiling at him and allowed her gaze to linger upon him for an extra second before she turned toward the microphone. He stepped back, quietly slipping off stage and into the crowd to watch. Hugh and Dot were on the same side of the room and came to stand next to him. 

“Thank you Chief Superintendent Robinson for those lovely remarks. Tonight, we are pleased to introduce to you our new charitable effort, Every Australian Woman, which seeks to aid struggling Australian women in achieving their goals. I would love to say that it was my idea, but I cannot. That honor goes to my new friend, Mrs. Bronwyn Colesmith Stokes, who will explain it for you in greater detail. Mrs. Stokes?”

+++

“Good evening, everyone,” Venus said into the microphone. “My name is Bronwyn Colesmith Stokes and I am a businesswoman.” She gazed out at the gathered crowd, representing the best of Melbourne society, all staring back at her in anticipation. She’d performed on stage many times when she was just starting out under Madam Juno, but that wasn’t nearly as exciting and nerve-wracking as this. She was standing on a ledge, the wind rushing around her, her heart thumping in her ears and she’d never felt so alive. She spied Henry across the room, his smile a lifeline, and she continued with her speech.

Venus outlined the problems EAW was seeking to solve, as well as the organization’s ambitious goals, pouring her heart into her words. She’d hated to turn away some of the women who’d come to Club Phoenix looking for work, who hadn’t met her exacting standards; she just wished she’d had a way to help prevent them from falling into even more dire straits. Now she had a way, and it had surprised her how grateful she was for it. She’d been lucky, and she was excited to be able to sprinkle some luck into the lives of deserving women. 

There was one young woman who deserved a stroke of good luck, but didn’t get it, and that was who she turned her words to next. 

“There was a young woman I met only recently,” Venus said, slowing down her delivery to emphasize what she wanted to say. “She had dreams of going into business for herself. Yet she died suddenly, about a month ago, before she’d taken more than a couple steps on her path to success. In her honor, and in gratitude to a generous and anonymous donor, I am pleased to announce the creation of the Emily Farnsworth Scholarship for Business. This scholarship will provide one young woman per year with all the personal, technical and social skills necessary to achieve in the business world. We look forward to selecting our first recipient.

“Now, I’m going to turn the microphone over to another business woman, someone many of you already know, my new friend, Lucille Turner, owner of Periwinkle Press.” Venus applauded as Lucille approached and happily turned over her place in the spotlight. She left the stage quickly and met up with Henry in the back of the room. 

“You were wonderful, Mrs. Stokes,” he rumbled quietly in her ear as he handed her a martini.

“Thank you, luv,” she said, taking a big gulp. He wrapped his arm around her and she leaned into his side, letting her body relax after her moment on stage. She scanned the room as Lucille talked, letting her eyes fall briefly on the surprising group of friends and acquaintances she’d made in the months since she’d moved to Melbourne. Her first friend, Gemma, was standing close to Frenchy, his arm around her waist and their relationship showing no signs of slowing down. Detective Inspector Flynn, who took his oath tonight along with the others, had his arm around Constable Nell Williams, and Venus smiled to herself for knowing the scandalous way they’d met. They had sworn her to secrecy, but she would never tell; discrecion was the foundation of her business. 

She considered Phryne and Jack to be her friends now, too, and they had shared their dinner table with her and Henry a few times since the arrest of Christopher Ling. Phryne of course was gracious and welcoming, while Jack remained cautious - his sense of duty and his position within the force didn’t naturally encourage him to rub elbows with gangsters and madams, but they all enjoyed each other’s company once the drinks were flowing. Phryne and Jack were certainly an unconventional pair, but seeing them together would convince any observer they were meant for each other, and they were, without a doubt, the most beautiful couple in the room. 

“Did I tell you yet you’re the most beautiful woman in the room, as always?” Henry spoke softly into her ear as if hearing her thoughts, his voice more a sensation than a sound and goosebumps chased from her ear down her arm. 

“Hmm, I don’t recall,” she mused playfully. 

“You are the most beautiful woman in this room, Mrs. Stokes,” he repeated, his hand sliding down her back to her derriere. “And I’m ready to go home and make much ado about your nothing.”

Venus snickered behind her martini glass. Thanks to Jack, she had developed a fascination with filthy Shakespeare, which had led to some interesting conversations around Jack and Phryne’s dinner table, as well as a few raunchy inside jokes with Henry. 

“Soon enough, Mr. Stokes,” she said. “Soon enough.”

+++

After the announcements were over, the bandleader stepped to the microphone to tell the crowd that the dancefloor would be reopened by the founders of Every Australian Woman and their partners. Phryne, Venus, and Lucille dragged their men toward the front as a mid-tempo version of “Let’s Misbehave” rose from the band. 

“Did you request this song?” Jack asked Phryne as they foxtrotted around the floor.

“Of course, Jack,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. “I know it’s not a waltz, but I’m sure they’ll play one eventually.”

“And if not,” he said, leaning toward her ear. “We can perfect our moves later at home.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she grinned at him.

“Yes,” he agreed with a wag of his eyebrows. “Yes, you will.”

Halfway through the song, the bandleader leaned into the microphone to announce, “Everyone join in, now!” and sped up the pace. Excited party-goers started doing the Charleston all around them, and Jack pulled Phryne to the side before they got kicked. 

“Well, that’s enough dancing for me for the next decade,” Henry fairly grumped as he and Venus appeared beside them. D.B. and Lucille were enthusiastically Charlestoning in the midst of the crowd. 

“Spoil sport,” Venus teased. 

“Miss Fisher, may I have this dance?” Hugh was standing in front of them holding out his hand to Phryne. “Dot’s caught in a conversation about knitting with Mrs. McGillicutty,” he added with a roll of his eyes.

“Of course, Hugh,” Phryne beamed, and off they went. 

“Mrs. Stokes?” This time it was Commissioner Rogers approaching and asking Venus to dance. She glanced at Henry who told her to go on. Never in his life would Jack have expected to see the Chief Commissioner of the Victoria Police Force dancing the Charleston with a high class madam, but the world was changing faster than ever. 

“Bar?” Henry raised his eyebrows at Jack. 

“Bar,” Jack agreed, and they sauntered over to the long table at the side of the room where four bartenders were churning out drinks at a steady pace. Whiskeys in hand, they moved to a spot where they could watch their women enjoying themselves on the dance floor. 

Jack lifted his glass to Henry who returned the gesture. The gangster had taken a liking to Jack since the Ling case, using his first name as if they were friends and even inviting Jack and Phryne to the wedding. Maybe it was because their women were becoming close, or maybe out of respect because Jack wasn’t going to sacrifice his fealty to the law, or maybe it was simply a case of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, but whatever the reason, the Two-Up King had decided he and Jack were going to be mates. 

“So, I have a hunch,” Jack said.

“When do you not, Jack?” Henry said. “It’s what you coppers do, isn’t it?”

Jack sipped his drink and continued. “I have a hunch that the anonymous donor for the Emily Farnsworth scholarship was the same anonymous donor that covered the cost of her funeral.” He looked pointedly at Henry who stared back evenly without a flinch. Heaven help the man who played poker with Henry Stokes. 

“They were anonymous donors, Jack,” Henry shrugged, but there was pride in his small smile. “I guess you’ll never know.”

“But here’s something we do know,” Jack said. “We know it was Kozzy and Grint who turned over Hardy Brothers that afternoon. And we’ve tracked down about half of the missing jewelry through the pawn shops where Eddie Spencer sold them for cash to buy drugs. Eddie Spencer robbed your men after they left the jewelry store, didn’t he.”

“And yet, you’ve never found any hard evidence that my men were anywhere near Hardy Brothers that day, aside from eyewitness reports offering vague descriptions.”

“I believe one piece of evidence is on Venus’ left hand,” Jack challenged.

“Sorry, Jack,” Henry clicked his tongue in faux disappointment. “Bought and paid for. I have the receipt in my desk.” 

“Before or after you gave it to her?”

“Before we were engaged,” Henry replied, not really answering the question. Jack figured he’d never get a straight answer out of Henry about the jewelry robbery, so he let it go for now. 

“So, do you think you’ll ever lock me away for good, Jack?” Henry joked.

“Every cop in this city would love to do that,” Jack replied. “Well, all the ones who aren’t on the take with you, anyway. Still, it would be a nice feather in the cap.”

“But I’m not a dangerous criminal like Ling or those Italian thugs. My operations help people have a good time, which is why your lot has decided to leave me alone. As long as everyone behaves, no one gets hurt.”

“You’ll make a mistake some day,” Jack reasoned. “All criminals do.”

“Catch me if you can, Robinson.”

“Just don’t make it too easy, Stokes.”

“Now, what would be the fun in that?” Henry grinned, and with the clink of their glasses the game was afoot. 

+++Fini+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ALL for reading all the way through to the end! It has been fun to write and fun to share with everyone!  
> If you enjoyed it, please drop a comment in the box below - I so appreciate hearing from you!   
> I can't wait to post the next story, but until then, feel free to check out my other works (to find them, just click on my name at the top).   
> Thanks again, and Happy Valentine's Day!


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